\ 


BANCROFT 

LIBRARY 

•> 

THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


- 


THAT  GIRL 

MONTANA 


BY 


MARAH  ELLIS  RYAN,  |  <£  < 
A// 


AUTHOR    OF 


"THE  BONDWOMAN,"  "  TOLD  IN  THE  HILLS," 
"A  PAGAN  OF  THE  ALLEGHANIES,"  ETC. 


CHICAGO  AND  NEW  YORK  : 
RAND,  McNALLY  &  COMPANY, 

PUBLISHERS. 


Copyright,  1901,  by  Rand,  McNally  &  Company. 


5  ^3-7 

BANCROFT 


THAT  GIRL  MONTANA. 


PROLOGUE. 

"That  girl  the  murderer  of  a  man — of  Lee  Holly !  That 
pretty  little  girl  ?  Bosh !  I  don't  believe  it." 

"I  did  not  say  she  killed  him ;  I  said  she  was  suspected. 
And  even  though  she  was  cleared,  the  death  of  that  rene- 
gade adds  one  more  to  the  mysteries  of  our  new  West. 
But  I  think  the  mere  suspicion  that  she  did  it  entitles  her 
to  a  medal,  or  an  ovation  of  some  sort." 

The  speakers  were  two  men  in  complete  hunting  cos- 
tume. That  they  were  strangers  in  the  Northwest  was 
evidenced  by  the  very  lively  interest  they  took  in  each 
tit  of  local  color  in  landscape  or  native  humanity.  Of 
the  latter,  there  was  a  most  picturesque  variety.  There 
were  the  Northern  red  men  in  their  bright  blankets,  and 
women,  too,  with  their  beadwork  and  tanned  skins  for 
sale.  A  good  market-place  for  these  was  this  spot  where 
the  Kootenai  River  is  touched  by  the  iron  road  that  drives 
from  the  lakes  to  the  Pacific.  The  road  runs  along  our 
Northern  boundary  so  close  that  it  is  called  the  "Great 
Northern,"  and  verily  the  land  it  touches  is  great  in  its 
wildness  and  its  beauty. 

The  two  men,  with  their  trophies  of  elk-horn  and  beaver 
paws,  with  their  scarred  outfit  and  a  general  air  of  elation 
gained  from  a  successful  "outing,"  tramped  down  to  the 


2  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

little  station  after  a  last  lingering  view  toward  far  hunt- 
ing grounds.  While  waiting  for  the  train  bound  eastward, 
they  employed  their  time  in  dickering  with  the  Indian 
moccasin-makers,  of  whom  they  bought  arrows  and  gaily 
painted  bows  of  ash,  with  which  to  deck  the  wall  of  some 
far-away  city  home. 

While  thus  engaged,  a  little  fleet  of  canoes  was  sighted 
skimming  down  the  river  from  that  greater  wilderness  of 
the  North,  penetrated  at  that  time  only  by  the  pros- 
pector, or  a  chance  hunter ;  for  the  wealth  of  gold  in  those 
high  valleys  had  not  yet  been  more  than  hinted  at,  and 
the  hint  had  not  reached  the  ears  of  the  world. 

Even  the  Indians  were  aroused  from  their  lethargy, 
and  watched  with  keen  curiosity  the  approaching  canoes. 
When  from  the  largest  there  stepped  forth  a  young  girl 
— a  rather  remarkable-looking  young  girl — there  was  a 
name  spoken  by  a  tall  Indian  boatman,  who  stood  near 
the  two  strangers.  The  Indians  nodded  their  heads,  and 
the  name  was  passed  from  one  to  the  other — the  name 
'Tana — a  soft,  musical  name  as  they  pronounced  it.  One 
of  the  strangers,  hearing  it,  turned  quickly  to  a  white 
ranchman,  who  had  a  ferry  at  that  turn  of  the  river,  and 
asked  if  that  was  the  young  girl  who  had  helped  locate 
the  new  gold  find  at  the  Twin  Springs. 

"Likely,"  agreed  the  ranchman.  "Word  came  that 
she  was  to  cut  the  diggings  and  go  to  school  a  spell.  A 
Mr.  Haydon,  who  represents  a  company  that's  to  work 
the  mine,  sent  down  word  that  a  special  party  was  to  go 
East  over  the  road  from  here  to-day ;  so  I  guess  she's  one 
of  the  specials.  She  came  near  going  on  a  special  to  the 
New  Jerusalem,  she  did,  not  many  days  ago.  I  reckon 
you  folks  heard  how  Lee  Holly — toughest  man  in  the 


PROLOGUE  3 

length  of  the  Columbia — was  wiped  off  the  living  earth 
by  her  last  week." 

"We  heard  she  was  cleared  of  it,"  assented  the  stranger. 

"Yes,  so  she  was,  so  she  was — cleared  by  an  alibi, 
sworn  to  by  Dan  Overton.  You  don't  know  Dan,  I  sup- 
pose ?  Squarest  man  you  ever  met !  And  he  don't  have  to 
scratch  gravel  any  more,  either,  for  he  has  a  third  interest 
in  that  Twin  Spring  find,  and  it  pans  out  big.  They  say 
the  girl  sold  her  share  for  two  hundred  thousand.  She 
doesn't  look  top-heavy  over  it,  either." 

And  she  did  not.  She  walked  between  two  men — one  a 
short,  rather  pompous  elderly  man,  who  bore  a  slight  re- 
semblance to  her,  and  whom  she  treated  rather  coolly. 

"Of  course  I  am  not  tired,"  she  said,  in  a  strong,  musi- 
cal voice.  "I  have  been  brought  all  the  way  on  cushions, 
so  how  could  I  be?  Why,  I  have  gone  alone  in  a  canoe 
on  a  longer  trail  than  we  floated  over,  and  I  think  I  will 
again  some  day.  Max,  there  is  one  thing  I  want  in  this 
world,  and  want  bad ;  that  is,  to  get  Mr.  Haydon  out  on 
a  trip  where  we  can't  eat  until  we  kill  and  cook  our 
dinner.  He  doesn't  know  anything  about  real  comfort ; 
he  wants  too  many  cushions." 

The  man  she  called  Max  bent  his  head  and  whispered 
something  to  her,  at  which  her  face  flushed  just  a  little 
and  a  tiny  wrinkle  crept  between  her  straight,  beautiful 
brows. 

"I  told  you  not  to  say  pretty  things  that  way,  just  be- 
cause you  think  girls  like  to  hear  them.  I  don't.  Maybe 
I  will  when  I  get  civilized ;  but  Mr.  Haydon  thinks  that  is 
a  long  ways  ahead,  doesn't  he?"  The  wrinkle  was  gone — 
vanished  in  a  quizzical  smile,  as  she  looked  up  into  the 
very  handsome  face  of  the  young  fellow. 


4  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"So  do  I,"  he  acknowledged.  "I  have  a  strong  desire, 
especially  when  you  snub  me,  to  be  the  man  to  take  you 
on  a  lone  trail  like  that.  I  will,  too,  some  day." 

"Maybe  you  will,"  she  agreed.  "But  I  feel  sorry  for 
you  beforehand." 

She  seemed  a  tantalizing  specimen  of  girlhood,  as  she 
stood  there,  a  slight,  brown  slip  of  a  thing,  dressed  in  a 
plain  flannel  suit,  the  color  of  her  golden-brown  short 
curls.  In  her  brown  cloth  hat  the  wings  of  a  redbird 
gleamed — the  feathers  and  her  lips  having  all  there  was 
of  bright  color  about  her;  for  her  face  was  singularly 
colorless  for  so  young  a  girl.  The  creamy  skin  suggested 
a  pale-tinted  blossom,  but  not  a  fragile  one ;  and  the  eyes 
— full  eyes  of  wine-brown — looked  out  with  frank  daring 
on  the  world. 

But  for  all  the  daring  brightness  of  her  glances,  it  was 
not  a  joyous  face,  such  as  one  would  wish  a  girl  of  seven- 
teen to  possess.  A  little  cynical  curve  of  the  red  mouth,  a 
little  contemptuous  glance  from  those  brown  eyes,  showed 
one  that  she  took  her  measurements  of  individuals 
by  a  gauge  of  her  own,  and  that  she  had  not  that  guile- 
less trust  in  human  nature  that  is  supposed  to  belong  to 
young  womanhood.  The  full  expression  indicated  an  in- 
dependence that  seemed  a  breath  caught  from  the  wild 
beauty  of  those  Northern  hills. 

Her  gaze  rested  lightly  on  the  two  strangers  and  their 
trophies  of  the  chase,  on  the  careless  ferryman,  and  the 
few  stragglers  from  the  ranch  and  the  cabins.  These 
last  had  gathered  there  to  view  the  train  and  its  people 
as  they  passed,  for  the  ties  on  which  the  iron  rails  rested 
were  still  of  green  wood,  and  the  iron  engines  of  trans- 
portation were  recent  additions  to  those  lands  of  the  far 
North,  and  were  yet  a  novelty. 


PROLOGUE  5 

Over  the  faces  of  the  white  men  her  eyes  passed  care- 
lessly. She  did  not  seem  much  interested  in  civilized 
men,  even  though  decked  in  finer  raiment  than  was  usual 
in  that  locality;  and,  after  a  cool  glance  at  them  all,  she 
walked  directly  past  them  and  spoke  to  the  tall  Indian 
who  had  first  uttered  her  name  to  the  others. 

His  face  brightened  when  she  addressed  him ;  but  their 
words  were  low,  as  are  ever  the  words  of  an  Indian 
in  converse,  low  and  softly  modulated;  and  the  girl  did 
not  laugh  in  the  face  of  the  native  as  she  had  when  the 
handsome  young  white  man  had  spoken  to  her  in  softened 
tones. 

The  two  sportsmen  gave  quickened  attention  to  her  as 
they  perceived  she  was  addressing  the  Indian  in  his  own 
language.  Many  gestures  of  her  slim  brown  hands  aided 
her  speech,  and  as  he  watched  her  face,  one  of  the  sports- 
men uttered  the  impulsive  exclamation  at  the  beginning 
of  this  story.  It  seemed  past  belief  that  she  could  have 
committed  the  deed  with  which  her  name  had  been  con- 
nected, and  of  which  the  Kootenai  valley  had  heard  a 
great  deal  during  the  week  just  passed.  That  it  had  be- 
come the  one  topic  of  general  interest  in  the  community 
was  due  partly  to  the  personality  of  the  girl,  and  partly 
to  the  fact  that  the  murdered  man  had  been  one  of  the 
most  notorious  in  all  that  wild  land  extending  north  and 
west  into  British  Columbia. 

Looking  at  the  frank  face  of  the  girl  and  hearing  her 
musical,  decided  tones,  the  man  had  a  reasonable  warrant 
for  deciding  that  she  was  not  guilty. 

"She  is  one  of  the  most  strongly  interesting  girls  of 
her  age  I  have  ever  seen,"  he  decided.  "Girls  of  that  age 
generally  lack  character.  She  does  not ;  it  impresses  itself 
on  a  man  though  she  never  speak  a  word  to  him.  Wish 


6  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

she'd  favor  me  with  as  much  of  her  attention  as  she  gives 
that  hulking  redskin." 

"It's  a  'case,'  isn't  it?"  asked  his  friend.  "You'll  be 
wanting  to  use  her  as  a  centerpiece  for  your  next  novel ; 
but  you  can't  make  an  orthodox  heroine  of  her,  for 
there  must  have  been  some  reason  for  the  suspicion  that 
she  helped  him  'over  the  range/  as  they  say  out  here. 
There  must  have  been  something  socially  and  morally 
wrong  about  the  fact  that  he  was  found  dead  in  her  cabin. 
No,  Harvey;  you'd  better  write  up  the  inert,  inoffensive 
red  man  on  his  native  heath,  and  let  this  remarkable  young 
lady  enjoy  her  thousands  in  modest  content — if  the  ghosts 
let  her." 

"Nonsense!"  said  the  other  man,  with  a  sort  of  im- 
patience. "You  jump  too  quickly  to  the  conclusion  that 
there  must  be  wrong  where  there  is  suspicion.  But  you 
have  put  an  idea  into  my  mind  as  to  the  story.  If  I  can 
ever  learn  the  whole  history  of  this  affair,  I  will  make  use 
of  it,  and  I'm  not  afraid  of  finding  my  pretty  girl  in  the 
wrong,  either." 

"I  knew  from  the  moment  we  heard  who  she  was  that 
your  impressionable  nature  would  fall  a  victim,  but  you 
can't  write  a  story  of  her  alone ;  you  will  want  your  hero 
and  one  or  two  other  people.  I  suppose,  now,  that  very 
handsome  young  fellow  with  the  fastidious  get-up  will 
about  suit  you  for  the  hero.  He  does  look  rather  lover- 
like  when  he  addresses  your  girl  with  the  history.  Will 
you  pair  them  off?" 

"I  will  let  you  know  a  year  from  now,"  returned  the 
man  called  Harvey.  "But  just  now  I  am  going  to  pay  my 
respects  to  the  very  well-fed  looking  elderly  gentleman. 
He  seems  to  be  the  chaperon  of  the  party.  I  have  acquired 
a  taste  for  trailing  things  during  our  thirty  days  hunt  in 


PROLOGUE  7 

these  hills,  and  I'm  going  to  trail  this  trio,  with  the  ex- 
pectation of  bagging  a  romance." 

His  friend  watched  him  approach  the  elder  gentleman, 
and  was  obviously  doubtful  of  the  reception  he  would  get, 
for  the  portly,  prosperous-looking  individual  did  not  seem 
to  have  been  educated  in  that  generous  Western  atmos- 
phere, where  a  man  is  a  brother  if  he  acts  square  and 
speaks  fair.  Conservatism  was  stamped  in  the  deep 
corners  of  his  small  mouth,  on  the  clean-shaven  lips,  and 
the  correctly  cut  side-whiskers  that  added  width  to  his 
fat  face. 

But  the  journalist  proper,  the  world  over,  is  ever  a  bit 
of  a  diplomat.  He  has  won  victories  over  so  many  con- 
servative things,  and  is  daunted  by  few.  When  Harvey 
found  himself  confronted  by  a  monocle  through  which  he 
was  coolly  surveyed,  it  did  not  disturb  him  in  the  least 
(beyond  making  it  difficult  to  retain  a  grave  demeanor 
at  the  lively  interest  shown  by  the  Indians  in  that  fash- 
ionable toy). 

"Yes,  sir — yes,  sir;  I  am  T.  J.  Haydon,  cf  Phila- 
delphia," acknowledged  he  of  the  glass  disc,  "but  I  don't 
know  you,  sir." 

"I  shall  be  pleased  to  remedy  that  if  you  will  allow  me," 
returned  the  other,  suavely,  producing  a  card  which  he 
offered  for  examination.  "You  are,  no  doubt,  acquainted 
with  the  syndicate  I  represent,  even  if  my  name  tells  you 
nothing.  I  have  been  hunting  here  with  a  friend  for  a 
month,  and  intend  writing  up  the  resources  of  this  dis- 
trict. I  have  a  letter  of  introduction  to  your  partner, 
Mr.  Seldon,  but  did  not  follow  the  river  so  far  as  to 
reach  your  works,  though  I've  heard  a  good  deal  about 
them,  and  imagine  them  interesting." 


8  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"Yes,  indeed;  very  interesting — very  interesting  from 
a  sportsman's  or  mineralogist's  point  of  view,"  agreed  the 
older  man,  as  he  twirled  the  card  in  a  disturbed,  uncertain 
way.  "Do  you  travel  East,  Mr. — Mr.  Harvey?  Yes? 
Well,  let  me  introduce  Mr.  Seldon's  nephew — he's  a  New 
Yorker — Max  Lyster.  Wait  a  minute  and  I'll  get  him 
away  from  those  beastly  Indians.  I  never  can  under- 
stand the  attraction  they  have  for  the  average  tourist." 

But  when  he  reached  Lyster  he  said  not  a  word  of 
the  despised  reds ;  he  had  other  matters  more  important. 

"Here,  Max !  A  most  annoying  thing  has  happened," 
he  said,  hurriedly.  "Those  two  men  are  newspaper  fel- 
lows, and  one  is  going  East  on  our  train.  Worse  still — 
the  one  knows  people  I  know.  Gad!  I'd  rather  lose  a 
thousand  dollars  than  meet  them  now!  And  you  must 
come  over  and  get  acquainted.  They've  been  here 
a  month,  and  are  to  write  accounts  of  the  life  and 
country.  That  means  they  have  been  here  long  enough 
to  hear  all  about  'Tana  and  that  Holly.  Do  you  under- 
stand ?  You'll  have  to  treat  them  well, — the  best  possible 
— pull  wires  even  if  it  costs  money,  and  fix  it  so  that  a 
record  of  this  does  not  get  into  the  Eastern  papers.  And, 
above  and  beyond  everything  else,  so  long  as  we  are  in 
this  depraved  corner  of  the  country,  you  must  keep  them 
from  noticing  that  girl  Montana." 

The  young  man  looked  across  at  the  girl,  and  smiled 
doubtfully. 

"I'm  willing  to  undertake  any  possible  thing  for  you," 
he  said;  "but,  my  dear  sir,  to  keep  people  from  noticing 
'Tana  is  one  of  the  things  beyond  my  power.  And  if  she 
gives  notice  to  all  the  men  who  will  notice  her,  I've  an  idea 
jealousy  will  turn  my  hair  gray  early.  But  come  on  and 
introduce  your  man,  and  don't  get  in  a  fever  over  the 


PROLOGUE  9 

meeting.  I  am  so  fortunate  as  to  know  more  of  the 
journalistic  fraternity  than  you,  and  I  happen  to  be  aware 
that  they  are  generally  gentlemen.  Therefore,  you'd  bet- 
ter not  drop  any  hints  to  them  of  monetary  advantages  in 
exchange  for  silence  unless  you  want  to  be  beautifully 
roasted  by  a  process  only  possible  in  printer's  ink/' 

The  older  man  uttered  an  exclamation  of  impatience, 
as  he  led  his  young  companion  over  to  the  sportsmen,  who 
had  joined  each  other  again;  and  as  he  effected  the  in- 
troduction, his  mind  was  sorely  upset  by  dread  of  the  two 
gentlemanly  strangers  and  'Tana. 

'Tana  was  most  shamelessly  continuing  her  confidences 
with  the  tall  Indian,  despite  the  fact  that  she  knew  it  was 
a  decided  annoyance  to  her  principal  escort.  Altogether 
the  evening  was  a  trying  one  to  Mr.  T.  J.  Haydon. 

The  sun  had  passed  far  to  the  west,  and  the  shadows 
were  growing  longer  under  the  hills  there  by  the  river. 
Clear,  red  glints  fell  across  the  cool  ripples  of  the  water, 
and  slight  chill  breaths  drifted  down  the  ravines  and  told 
that  the  death  of  summer  was  approaching. 

Some  sense  of  the  beauty  of  the  dying  October  day 
seemed  to  touch  the  girl,  for  she  walked  a  little  apart  and 
picked  a  spray  of  scarlet  maple  leaves  and  looked  from 
them  to  the  hills  and  the  beautiful  valley,  where  the  red 
and  the  yellow  were  beginning  to  crowd  out  the  greens. 
Yes,  the  summer  was  dying — dying!  Other  summers 
would  come  in  their  turn,  but  none  quite  the  same.  The 
girl  showed  all  the  feeling  of  its  loss  in  her  face.  In  her 
eyes  the  quick  tears  came,  as  she  looked  at  the  mountains. 
The  summer  was  dying;  it  was  autumn's  colors  she  held 
in  her  hand,  and  she  shivered,  though  she  stood  in  the 
sunshine. 


10  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

As  she  turned  toward  the  group  again,  she  met  the 
eyes  of  the  stranger  to  whom  Max  was  talking.  He 
seemed  to  have  been  watching  her  with  a  great  deal  of 
interest,  and  her  hand  was  raised  to  her  eyes,  lest  a  trace 
of  tears  should  prove  food  for  curiosity. 

"It  was  to  one  of  Akkomi's  relations  I  was  talking," 
she  remarked  to  Mr.  Haydon,  when  he  questioned  her. 
"His  little  grandson  is  sick,  and  I  would  like  to  send  him 
something.  I  haven't  money  enough  in  my  pocket,  and 
wish  you  would  get  me  some." 

After  taking  some  money  out  of  his  purse  for  her, 
he  eyed  the  tall  savage  with  disfavor. 

"He'll  buy  bad  whisky  with  it,"  he  grumbled. 

"No,  he  will  not,"  contradicted  the  girl.  "If  a  person 
treats  these  Indians  square,  he  can  trust  them.  But  if 
a  lie  is  told  them,  or  a  promise  broken — well,  they  get 
even  by  tricking  you  if  they  can,  and  I  can't  say  that  I 
blame  them.  But  they  won't  trick  me,  so  don't  worry; 
and  I'm  as  sure  the  things  will  go  to  that  little  fellow 
safely  as  though  I  took  them." 

She  was  giving  the  money  and  some  directions  to  the 
Indian,  when  a  word  from  a  squaw  drew  her  attention  to 
the  river. 

A  canoe  had  just  turned  the  bend  not  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  away,  and  was  skimming  the  water  with  the  swift- 
ness of  a  swallow's  dart.  Only  one  man  was  in  it,  and  he 
was  coming  straight  for  the  landing. 

"Some  miner  rushing  down  to  see  the  train  go  by," 
remarked  Mr.  Haydon ;  but  the  girl  did  not  answer.  Her 
face  grew  even  more  pale,  and  her  hands  clasped  each 
other  nervously. 

"Yes,"  said  the  Indian  beside  her,  and  nodded  to  her 
assuringly.  Then  the  color  swept  upward  over  her  face 


PROLOGUE  11 

as  she  met  his  kindly  glance,  and  drawing  herself  a  lit- 
tle straighter,  she  walked  indifferently  away. 

The  stolid  red  man  did  not  look  at  all  snubbed ;  he  only 
pocketed  the  money  she  had  given  him,  and  looked  after 
her  with  a  slight  smile,  accented  more  by  the  deepening 
wrinkles  around  his  black  eyes  than  by  any  change  about 
the  lips. 

Then  there  was  a  low  rumbling  sound  borne  on  the 
air,  and  as  the  muffled  whistle  of  the  unseen  train  came  to 
them  from  the  wilderness  to  the  west,  with  one  accord  the 
Indians  turned  their  attention  to  their  wares,  and  the 
white  people  to  their  baggage.  When  the  train  slowed  up 
Mr.  Haydon,  barely  waiting  for  the  last  revolution  of  the 
wheels,  energetically  hastened  the  young  girl  up  the 
steps  of  the  car  nearest  them. 

"What's  the  hurry?"  she  asked,  with  a  slight  impa- 
tience. 

"I  think,"  he  replied  quickly,  "there  is  but  a  short 
stop  made  at  this  station,  and  as  there  are  several  vacant 
seats  in  this  car,  please  occupy  one  of  them  until  I  have 
seen  the  conductor.  There  may  be  some  changes  made 
as  to  the  compartments  engaged  for  us.  Until  that  is 
decided,  will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  remain  in  this  coach?" 

She  nodded  rather  indifferently,  and  looked  around  for 
Max.  He  was  gathering  up  some  robes  and  satchels  when 
the  older  man  joined  him. 

"We  are  not  going  to  make  the  trip  to  Chicago  in  the 
car  with  those  fellows  if  it  can  be  helped,  Max,"  he  in- 
sisted, fussily;  "we'll  wait  and  see  what  car  they  are 
booked  for,  and  I'll  arrange  for  another.  Sorry  I  did 
not  get  a  special,  as  I  first  intended." 

"But  see  here ;  they  are  first-class  fellows — worth  one's 


12  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

while  to  meet,"  protested  Max;  but  the  other  shook  his 
head. 

"Look  after  the  baggage  while  I  see  the  conductor. 
'Tana  is  in  one  of  the  cars — don't  know  which.  We'll 
go  for  her  when  we  get  settled.  Now,  don't  argue.  Time 
is  too  precious." 

And  'Tana!  She  seated  herself  rather  sulkily,  as  she 
was  told,  and  looked  at  once  toward  the  river. 

The  canoe  was  landing,  and  the  man  jumped  to  the 
shore.  With  quick,  determined  strides,  he  came  across 
the  land  to  the  train.  She  tried  to  follow  him  with  her 
eyes,  but  he  crossed  to  the  other  side  of  the  track. 

There  was  rather  a  boisterous  party  in  the  car — two 
men  and  two  women.  One  of  the  latter,  a  flaxen-haired, 
petite  creature,  was  flitting  from  one  side  of  the  car  to 
the  other,  making  remarks  about  the  Indians,  admiring 
particularly  one  boy's  beaded  dress,  and  garnishing  her 
remarks  with  a  good  deal  of  slang. 

"Say,  Chub !  that  boy's  suit  would  be  a  great  'make-up' 
for  me  in  that  new  turn — the  jig,  you  know;  new,  too. 
There  isn't  a  song-and-dance  on  the  boards  done  with 
Indian  make-up.  Knock  them  silly  in  the  East,  where 
they  don't  see  reds.  Now  sing  out,  and  tell  me  if  it 
wouldn't  make  a  hit." 

"Aw,  Goldie,  give  us  a  rest  on  shop  talk,"  growled  the 
gentleman  called  Chub.  "If  you'd  put  a  little  more  gin- 
ger into  the  good  specialty  you  have,  instead  of  depending 
on  wardrobe,  you'd  hit  'em  hard  enough.  It  ain't  plans 
that  count,  girlie — it's  work." 

The  "girlie"  addressed  accepted  the  criticism  with  easy 
indifference,  and  her  fair,  dissipated  face  was  only  twisted 
in  a  grimace,  while  she  held  one  hand  aloft  and  jingled 


PROLOGUE  13 

the  bangles  on  her  bracelets  as  though  poising  a  tam- 
bourine. 

"Better  hustle  yourself  into  the  smoker  again,  Chubby 
dear.  It  will  take  a  half-dozen  more  cigars  to  put  you  in 
your  usual  sweet  frame  of  mind.  Run  along  now.  Ta-ta !" 

The  other  woman  seemed  to  think  their  remarks  very 
witty,  especially  when  Chub  really  did  arise  and  make  his 
way  toward  the  smoker.  Goldie  then  went  back  to  the 
window,  where  the  Indians  were  to  be  seen.  The  quartet 
were,  to  judge  by  their  own  frank  remarks,  a  party  of 
variety  singers  and  dancers  who  had  been  doing  the  Pa- 
cific circuit,  and  were  now  booked  for  some  Eastern 
houses,,  of  which  they  spoke  as  "solid." 

Some  of  the  passengers  had  got  out  and  were  buying 
little  things  from  the  Indians,  as  souvenirs  of  the  country. 
'Tana  saw  Mr.  Haydon  among  them,  in  earnest  conver- 
sation with  the  conductor;  saw  Max,  with  his  hand  full 
of  satchels,  suddenly  reach  out  the  other  hand  with  a 
great  deal  of  heartiness  and  meet  the  man  of  the  canoe. 

He  was  not  so  handsome  a  man  as  Max,  yet  would 
have  been  noticeable  anywhere — tall,  olive-skinned,  and 
dark-haired.  His  dress  had  not  the  fashionable  cut  of 
the  young  fellow  he  spoke  to.  But  he  wore  his  buckskin 
jacket  with  a  grace  that  bespoke  physical  strength  and 
independence;  and  when  he  pushed  his  broad-brimmed 
gray  hat  back  from  his  face,  he  showed  a  pair  of  dark 
eyes  that  had  a  very  direct  glance.  They  were  serious, 
contemplative  eyes,  that  to  some  might  look  even  moody. 

"There  is  a  fellow  with  a  great  figure,"  remarked  the 
other  woman  of  the  quartet;  "that  fellow  with  the  som- 
brero; built  right  up  from  the  ground,  and  looks  like  a 
picture;  don't  he,  Charlie?" 
2 


H  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"I  can't  see  him,"  complained  Goldie,  "but  suppose  it's 
one  of  the  ranchmen  who  live  about  here."  Then  she 
turned  and  donated  a  brief  survey  to  'Tana.  "Do  you  live 
in  this  region?"  she  asked. 

After  a  deliberate,  contemptuous  glance  from  the  ques- 
tioner's frizzed  head  to  her  little  feet,  'Tana  answered: 

"No;  do  you?" 

With  this  curt  reply,  she  turned  her  shoulder  very 
coolly  on  the  searcher  for  information. 

Vexation  sent  the  angry  blood  up  into  the  little  woman's 
face.  She  looked  as  though  about  to  retort,  when  a  gen- 
tleman who  had  just  taken  possession  of  a  compartment, 
and  noted  all  that  had  passed,  came  forward  and  ad- 
dressed our  heroine. 

"Until  your  friends  come  in,  will  you  not  take  my  seat  ?" 
he  asked,  courteously.  "I  will  gladly  make  the  exchange, 
or  go  for  Mr.  Lyster  or  Mr.  Haydon,  if  you  desire  it." 

"Thank  you ;  I  will  take  your  seat,"  she  agreed.  "It  is 
good  of  you  to  offer  it." 

"Say,  folks,  I'm  going  outside  to  take  in  this  free  Wild 
West  show,"  called  the  variety  actress  to  her  companions. 
"Come  along?" 

But  they  declined.  She  had  reached  the  platform  alone, 
when,  coming  toward  the  car,  she  saw  the  man  of  the 
sombrero,  and  shrank  back  with  a  gasp  of  utter  dismay. 

"Oh,  good  Heaven!"  she  muttered,  and  all  the  color 
and  bravado  were  gone  from  her  face,  as  she  shrank  back 
out  of  his  range  of  vision  and  almost  into  the  arms  of 
the  man  Harvey,  who  had  given  the  other  girl  his  seat. 

"What's  up?"  he  asked,  bluntly. 

She  only  gave  a  muttered,  unintelligible  reply,  pushed 
past  him  to  her  own  seat,  where  her  feather-laden  hat 
was  donned  with  astonishing  rapidity,  a  great  cloak  was 


PROLOGUE  15 

thrown  around  her,  and  she  sank  into  a  corner,  a  huddled 
mass  of  wraps  and  feathers.  Any  one  could  have  walked 
along  the  aisle  without  catching  even  a  glimpse  of  her 
flaxen  hair. 

Tana  and  the  stranger  exchanged  looks  of  utter  won- 
der at  the  lightning  change  effected  before  their  eyes. 

At  that  moment  a  tap-tap  sounded  on  the  window  be- 
side 'Tana,  and,  looking  around,  she  met  the  dark  eyes 
of  the  man  with  the  sombrero  gazing  kindly  upward  at 
her. 

The  people  were  getting  aboard  the  train  again — the 
time  was  so  short — so  short!  and  how  can  one  speak 
through  a  double  glass?  The  fingers  were  all  unequal  to 
the  fastening  of  the  window,  and  she  turned  an  imploring, 
flushed  face  to  the  helpful  stranger. 

"Can  you — oh,  will  you,  please?"  she  asked,  breath- 
lessly. "Thank  you,  I'm  very  much  obliged." 

Then  the  window  was  raised,  and  her  hand  thrust  out 
to  the  man,  who  was  bareheaded  now,  and  who  looked 
very  much  as  though  he  held  the  wealth  of  the  world 
when  he  clasped  only  'Tana's  fingers. 

"Oh,  it  is  you,  is  it  ?"  she  asked,  with  a  rather  lame  at- 
tempt at  careless  speech.  "I  thought  you  had  forgotten 
to  say  good-by  to  me." 

"You  knew  better,"  he  contradicted.  "You  knew — you 
know  now  it  wasn't  because  I  forgot." 

He  looked  at  her  moodily  from  under  his  dark  brows, 
and  noticed  the  color  flutter  over  her  cheek  and  throat 
in  an  adorable  way.  She  had  drawn  her  hand  from  him, 
and  it  rested  on  the  window — a  slim  brown  hand,  with  a 
curious  ring  on  one  finger — two  tiny  snakes  whose 
jeweled  heads  formed  the  central  point  of  attraction. 


16  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"You  said  you  would  not  wear  that  again.  If  it's  a 
hoodoo,  as  you  thought,  why  not  throw  it  away?"  he 
asked. 

VfOh — I've  changed  my  -mind.  I  need  to  wear  it  so  that 
I  will  be  reminded  of  something — something  important  as 
a  hoodoo,"  she  said,  with  a  strange,  bitter  smile. 

"Give  it  back  to  me,  'Tana,"  he  urged.  "I  will — No — 
Max  will  have  something  much  prettier  for  you.  And 
listen,  my  girl.  You  are  going  away;  don't  ever  come 
back;  forget  everything  here  but  the  money  that  will  be 
yours  for  the  claim.  Do  you  understand  me  ?  Forget  all 
I  said  to  you  when — you  know.  I  had  no  right  to  say  it ; 
I  must  have  been  drunk.  I — I  lied,  anyway." 

"Oh,  you  lied,  did  you?"  she  asked,  cynically,  and  her 
hands  were  clasped  closely,  so  close  the  ring  must  have 
hurt  her.  He  noticed  it,  and  kept  his  eyes  on  her  hand 
as  he  continued,  doggedly : 

"Yes.  You  see,  little  girl,  I  thought  I'd  own  up  before 
you  left,  so  you  wouldn't  be  wasting  any  good  time  in 
being  sorry  about  the  folks  back  here.  It  wasn't  square 
for  me  to  trouble  you  as  I  did.  And — I  lied.  I  came 
down  to  say  that." 

"You  needn't  have  troubled  yourself,"  she  said,  curtly. 
"But  I  see  you  can  tell  lies.  I  never  would  have  believed 
it  if  I  hadn't  heard  you.  "But  I  guess,  after  all,  I  will 
give  you  the  ring.  You  might  want  it  to  give  to  some 
one  else — perhaps  your  wife." 

The  bell  was  ringing  and  the  wheels  began  slowly  to 
revolve.  She  pulled  the  circlet  from  her  finger  and  almost 
flung  it  at  him. 

"  'Tana !"  and  all  of  keen  appeal  was  in  his  voice 
and  his  eyes,  ''little  girl — good-by !" 


PROLOGUE  IT 

But  she  turned  away  her  head.  Her  hand,  however, 
reached  out  and  the  spray  of  autumn  leaves  fluttered  to 
his  feet  where  the  ring  lay. 

Then  the  rumble  of  the  moving  train  sounded  through 
the  valley,  and  the  girl  turned  to  find  Max,  Mr.  Haydon 
and  a  porter  approaching,  to  convey  her  to  the  car  aheadL 
Mr.  Haydon's  face  was  a  study  of  dismay  at  the  sight  of 
Mr.  Harvey  closing  the  window  and  showing  evident  in- 
terest in  'Tana's  comfort. 

"So  Dan  did  get  down  to  see  you  off,  'Tana?"  observed 
Max,  as  he  led  her  along  the  aisle.  "Dear  old  fellow  ! 
how  I  did  try  to  coax  him  into  coming  East  later ;  but  it 
was  of  no  use.  He  gave  me  some  flowers  for  you — wild 
beauties.  He  never  seemed  to  say  much,  'Tana,  but  I've 
an  idea  you'll  never  have  a  better  friend  in  your  life 
than  that  same  old  Dan." 

Mr.  Harvey  watched  their  exit,  and  smiled  a  little  con- 
cerning Mr.  Haydon's  evident  annoyance.  He  watched,, 
also,  the  flaxen-haired  bundle  in  the  corner,  and  saw  the 
curious,  malignant  look  with  which  she  followed  'Tana* 
and  to  his  friend  he  laughed  over  his  triumph  in  exchang- 
ing speech  with  the  pretty,  peculiar  girl  in  brown. 

"And  the  old  party  looked  terribly  fussy  over  it.  In 
fact,  I've  about  sifted  out  the  reason.  He  imagines  me 
a  newspaper  reporter  on  the  alert  for  sensations.  He's 
afraid  his  stupidly  respectable  self  may  be  mentioned  in 
a  newspaper  article  concerning  this  local  tragedy  they  all 
talk  about.  Why,  bless  his  pocket-book !  if  I  ever  use  pen 
and  ink  on  that  girl's  story,  it  will  not  be  for  a  newspaper 
article." 

"Then  you  intend  to  tell  it?"  asked  his  friend.  "How 
will  you  learn  it?" 


18  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"I  do  not  know  yet.  The  'how'  does  not  matter;  I'll 
tell  you  on  paper  some  day." 

"And  write  up  that  handsome  Lyster  as  the  hero  ?" 

"Perhaps." 

Then  a  bend  of  the  road  brought  them  again  in  sight 
of  the  river  of  the  Kootenais.  Here  and  there  the  canoes 
of  the  Indians  were  speeding  across  at  the  ferry.  But 
one  canoe  alone  was  moving  north ;  not  very  swiftly,  but 
almost  as  though  drifting  with  the  current. 

Using  his  field-glass,  Harvey  found  it  was  as  he  had 
thought.  The  occupant  of  the  solitary  canoe  was  the  tall 
man  whose  dark  face  had  impressed  the  theatrical  lady 
so  strongly.  He  was  not  using  the  paddle,  and  his  chin 
was  resting  on  one  clenched  hand,  while  in  the  other  he 
held  something  to  which  he  was  giving  earnest  attention. 

It  was  a  spray  of  bright-colored  leaves,  and  the 
watcher  dropped  his  glass  with  a  guilty  feeling. 

"He  brings  her  flowers,  and  gets  in  return  only  dead 
leaves,"  Harvey  thought,  grimly.  "I  didn't  hear  a  word 
he  said  to  her ;  but  his  eyes  spoke  strongly  enough,  poor 
devil !  I  wonder  if  she  sees  him,  too." 

And  all  through  the  evening,  and  for  many  a  day,  the 
picture  remained  in  his  mind.  Even  when  he  wrote  the 
story  that  is  told  in  these  pages,  he  could  never  find  words 
to  express  the  utter  loneliness  of  that  life,  as  it  seemed  to 
drift  away  past  the  sun-touched  ripples  of  water  into  that 
vast,  shadowy  wilderness  to  the  north. 


A  STRANGE  GIRL  19 


CHAPTER  I. 

A  STRANGE  GIRL. 

"Well,  by  the  help  of  either  her  red  gods  or  devils,  she 
caa  swim,  anyway !" 

This  explosive  statement  was  made  one  June  morning 
on  the  banks  of  the  Kootenai,  and  the  speaker,  after  a 
steady  gaze,  relinquished  his  field-glass  to  the  man  be- 
side him. 

"Can  she  make  it  ?"  he  asked 

A  grunt  was  the  only  reply  given  him.  The  silent 
watcher  was  too  much  interested  in  the  scene  across  the 
water. 

Shouts  came  to  them — the  yells  of  frightened  Indian 
children;  and  from  the  cone-shaped  dwellings,  up  from 
the  water,  the  Indian  women  were  hurrying.  One,  reach- 
ing the  shore  first,  sent  up  a  shrill  cry,  as  she  perceived 
that,  from  the  canoe  where  the  children  played,  one  had 
fallen  over,  and  was  being  swept  away  by  that  swift- 
rushing,  chill  water,  far  out  from  the  reaching  hands  of 
the  others. 

Then  a  figure  lolling  on  the  shore  farther  down  stream 
than  the  canoe  sprang  erect  at  the  frightened  scream. 

One  quick  glance  showed  the  helplessness  of  those 
above,  and  another  the  struggling  little  form  there  in  the 
water — the  little  one  who  turned  such  wild  eyes  toward 
the  shore,  and  was  the  only  one  of  them  all  who  was 
not  making  some  outcry. 

The  white  men,  who  were  watching  from  the  opposite 


20  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

side,  could  see  shoes  flung  aside  quickly;  a  jacket  dropped 
on  the  shore;  and  then  down  into  the  water  a  slight 
figure  darted  with  the  swiftness  of  a  kingfisher,  and 
swam  out  to  the  little  fellow  who  had  struggled  to  keep 
his  head  above  water,  but  was  fast  growing  helpless  in  the 
chill  of  the  mountain  river. 

Then  it  was  that  Mr.  Maxwell  Lyster  commented  on 
the  physical  help  lent  by  the  gods  of  the  red  people,  as  the 
ability  of  any  female  to  swim  thus  lustily  in  spite  of  that 
icy  current  seemed  to  his  civilized  understanding  a  thing 
superhuman.  Of  course,  bears  and  other  animals  of  the 
woods  swam  it  at  all  seasons,  when  it  was  open;  but  to 
see  a  woman  dash  into  it  like  that !  Well,  it  sent  a  shiver 
over  him  to  think  of  it. 

"They'll  both  get  chilled  and  drop  to  the  bottom !"  he 
remarked,  with  irritated  concern.  "Of  course  there  are 
enough  of  the  red  vagabonds  in  this  new  El  Dorado  of 
yours,  without  that  particular  squaw.  But  it  would  be  a 
pity  that  so  plucky  a  one  should  be  translated." 

Then  a  yell  of  triumph  came  from  the  other  shore.  A 
canoe  had  been  loosened,  and  was  fairly  flying  over  the 
water  to  where  the  child  had  been  dragged  to  the  surface, 
and  the  rescuer  was  holding  herself  up  by  the  slow 
efforts  of  one  arm,  but  could  make  no  progress  with  her 
burden. 

"That's  no  squaw!"  commented  the  other  man,  who 
had  been  looking  through  the  glass. 

"Why,  Dan!" 

"It's  no  squaw,  I  tell  you,"  insisted  the  other,  with  the 
superior  knowledge  of  a  native.  "Thought  so  the  minute 
I  saw  her  drop  the  shoes  and  jacket  that  way.  She  didn't 
make  a  single  Indian  move.  It's  a  white  woman !" 

"Queer  place  for  a  white  woman,  isn't  it?" 


A  STRANGE  GIRL  21 

The  man  called  Dan  did  not  answer.  The  canoe  had 
reached  that  figure  in  the  water  and  the  squaw  in  it  lifted 
the  now  senseless  child  and  laid  him  in  the  bottom  of  the 
light  craft. 

A  slight  altercation  seemed  going  on  between  the 
woman  in  the  water  and  the  one  in  the  boat.  The  former 
was  protesting  against  being  helped  on  board — the  men 
could  see  that  by  their  gestures.  She  finally  gained  her 
point,  for  the  squaw  seized  the  paddle  and  sent  the  boat: 
shoreward  with  all  the  strength  of  her  brown  arms,  while 
the  one  in  the  water  held  on  to  the  canoe  and  was  thus 
towed  back,  where  half  the  Indian  village  had  now 
swarmed  to  receive  them. 

"She's  got  sand  and  sense,"  and  Dan  nodded  his  ap- 
preciation of  the  towing  process ;  "for,  chilled  as  she  must 
be,  the  canoe  would  more  than  likely  have  turned  over  if 
she  had  tried  to  climb  into  it.  Look  at  the  pow-wow  they 
are  kicking  up !  That  little  red  devil  must  count  for  big 
stakes  with  them." 

"But  the  woman  who  swam  after  him.  See!  they  try 
to  stand  her  on  her  feet,  but  she  can't  walk.  There ! 
she's  on  the  ground  again.  I'd  give  half  my  supper  to 
know  if  she  has  killed  herself  with  that  ice-bath." 

"Maybe  you  can  eat  all  your  supper  and  find  out,  too," 
observed  the  other,  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  and  a 
quizzical  glance  at  his  companion,  "unless  even  the 
glimpse  of  a  petticoat  has  chased  away  your  appetite. 
You  had  better  take  Gome  advice  from  an  old  man,  Max, 
and  swear  off  approaching  females  in  this  country,  for 
the  specimens  you'll  find  here  aren't  things  to  make  you 
proud  they're  human." 

"An  old  man !"  repeated  Mr.  Lyster  with  a  smile  of 
derision.  "You  must  be  pretty  near  twenty-eight  years 


22  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

old — aren't  you,  Dan?  and  just  about  five  years  older 
than  myself.  And  what  airs  you  do  assume  in  conse- 
quence !  With  all  the  weight  of  those  years,"  he  added, 
slowly,  "I  doubt,  Mr.  Dan  Overton,  if  you  have  really 
lived  as  much  as  I  have." 

One  glance  of  the  dark  eyes  was  turned  on  the  speaker 
for  an  instant,  and  then  the  old  felt  hat  again  shaded 
them  as  he  continued  watching  the  group  on  the  far  shore. 
The  swimmer  had  been  picked  up  by  a  stalwart  Indian 
woman,  and  was  carried  bodily  up  to  one  of  the  lodges, 
while  another  squaw — evidently  the  mother — carried  the 
little  redskin  who  had  caused  all  the  commotion. 

"I  suppose,  by  living,  you  mean  the  life  of  settlements 
— or,  to  condense  the  question  still  more,  the  life  of 
cities,"  continued  Overton,  stretching  himself  lazily  on  the 
bank.  "You  mean  the  life  of  a  certain  set  in  one  certain 
city — New  York,  for  instance,"  and  he  grinned  at  the  ex- 
pression of  impatience  on  the  face  of  the  other.  "Yes,  I 
reckon  New  York  is  about  the  one,  and  a  certain  part  of 
the  town  to  live  in.  A  certain  gang  of  partners,  who  have 
a  certain  man  to  make  their  clothes  and  boots  and  hats, 
and  stamp  his  name  on  the  inside  of  them,  so  that  other 
folks  can  see,  when  you  take  off  your  coat,  or  your  hat,  or 
your  gloves,  that  they  were  made  at  just  the  right  place. 
This  makes  you  a  man  worth  knowing — isn't  that  about 
the  idea?  And  in  the  afternoon,  at  just  about  the  right 
hour,  you  rig  yourself  out  in  a  certain  cut  of  coat,  and 
stroll  for  an  hour  or  so  on  a  certain  street !  In  the  even- 
ing— if  a  man  wants  to  understand  just  what  it  is  to  live 
— he  must  get  into  other  clothes  and  drop  into  the  theater, 
making  a  point  of  being  introduced  to  any  heavy  swell 
within  reach,  so  you  can  speak  of  it  afterward,  you  know. 
Just  as  your  chums  like  to  say  they  had  a  supper  with  a 


A  STRANGE  GIRL  23 

pretty  actress,  after  the  curtain  went  down ;  but  they  don't 
go  into  details,  and  own  up  that  the  'actress'  maybe  never 
did  anything  on  a  stage  but  walk  on  in  armor  and  carry  a 
banner.  Oh,  scowl  if  you  want  to !  Of  course  it  sounds 
shoddy  when  a  trapper  outlines  it;  but  it  doesn't  seem 
shoddy  to  the  people  who  live  like  that.  Then,  about  the 
time  that  all  good  girls  are  asleep,  it  is  just  the  hour  for 
a  supper  to  be  ordered,  at  just  the  right  place  for  the  wine 
to  be  good,  and  the  dishes  served  in  Ai  shape,  with  a 
convenient  waiter  who  knows  how  dim  to  make  the 
lights,  and  how  to  efface  himself,  and  let  you  wait  on  your 
'lady'  with  your  own  hands.  And  she'll  go  home  wearing 
a  ring  of  yours — two,  if  you  have  them ;  and  you'll  wake 
up  at  noon  next  day,  and  think  what  a  jolly  time  you 
had,  but  with  your  head  so  muddled  that  you  can't  re- 
member where  it  was  you  were  to  meet  her  the  next  night, 
or  whether  it  was  the  next  night  that  her  husband  was  to 
be  home,  and  she  couldn't  see  you  at  all."  Overton  rolled 
over  on  his  face  and  grunted  disdainfully,  saying :  "That's 
about  the  style  of  thing  you  call  living,  don't  you,  sonny  ?" 

"Great  Scott,  Dan !"  and  the  "sonny"  addressed  stared 
at  him  in  perplexity,  "one  never  knows  what  to  expect 
of  you.  Of  course  there  is  some  truth  in  the  sketch  you 
make;  but — but  I  thought  you  had  never  ranged  to  the 
East?" 

"Did  you?  Well,  I  don't  look  as  if  I'd  ever  ranged 
beyond  the  timber,  do  I?"  and  he  stretched  out  his  long 
legs  with  their  shabby  coverings,  and  stuck  his  ringers 
through  a  hole  in  his  hat.  "This  outfit  doesn't  look  as  if 
the  hands  of  a  Broadway  tailor  had  ever  touched  it.  But, 
my  boy,  the  sketch  you  speak  of  would  be  just  as  true  to 
life  among  a  certain  set  in  any  large  city  of  the  States ; 
only  in  the  West,  or  even  in  the  South,  those  ambitious 


24:  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

sports  would  know  enough  to  buy  a  horse  on  their  own 
judgment,  if  they  wanted  to  ride.  Or  would  bet  on  the 
races  without  hustling  around  to  find  some  played-out 
jockey  who  would  give  them  tips/' 

"Well,  to  say  the  least,  your  opinion  is  not  very  flatter- 
ing to  us,"  remarked  the  young  man,  moodily.  "You've 
got  some  grudge  against  the  East,  I  guess." 

"Grudge  ?  Not  any.  And  you're  all  right,  Max.  You 
will  find  thousands  willing  to  keep  to  your  idea  of  life, 
so  we  won't  split  on  that  wedge.  My  old  stepdad  would 
chime  in  with  you  if  he  were  here.  He  prates  about 
civilization  and  Eastern  culture  till  I  get  weary  some- 
times. Culture!  Wait  till  you  see  him.  He's  all  right 
in  his  way,  of  course ;  but  as  I  cut  loose  from  home  when 
only  fifteen,  and  never  ran  across  the  old  man  again  until 
two  years  ago — well,  you  see,  I  can  make  my  estimates 
in  that  direction  without  being  biased  by  family  feeling. 
And  I  reckon  he  does  the  same  thing.  I  don't  know  what 
to  expect  when  I  go  back  this  time;  but,  from  signs 
around  camp  when  I  left,  I  wouldn't  be  surprised  if  he 
presented  me  with  a  stepmother  on  my  return." 

"A  stepmother?  Whew!"  whistled  the  other.  "Well, 
that  shows  there  are  some  white  women  in  your  region, 
anyway." 

"Oh,  yes,  we  have  several.  This  particular  one  is  a 
Pennsylvania  product;  talks  through  her  nose,  and  eats 
with  her  knife,  and  will  maybe  try  to  make  -eyes  at  you  and 
keep  you  in  practice.  But  she  is  a  good,  square  woman ; 
simply  one  of  the  many  specimens  that  drift  out  here. 
Came  up  from  Helena  with  the  'boom,'  and  started  a 
milliner  store — a  milliner  store  in  the  bush,  mind  you ! 
But  after  the  Indians  had  bought  all  the  bright  feathers 
and  artificial  flowers,  she  changed  her  sign,  and  keeps  an 


A  STRANGE  GIRL  25 

eating-house  now.  It  is  the  high-toned  corner  of  the 
camp.  She  can  cook  some;  and  I  reckon  that's  what 
catches  the  old  man." 

"Any  more  interesting  specimens  like  that  ?" 

"Not  like  that/'  returned  Overton ;  "but  there  are  some 
more." 

Then  he  arose,  and  stood  listening  to  sounds  back  in  the 
wild  forests. 

"I  hear  the  'cayuse'  bell,"  he  remarked ;  "so  the  others 
are  coming.  We'll  go  back  up  to  the  camp,  and,  after 
'chuck/  we'll  go  over  and  give  you  a  nearer  view  of 
the  tribe  on  the  other  shore,  if  you  want  to  add  them  to 
the  list  of  your  sight-seeing." 

"Certainly  I  do.  They'll  be  a  relief  after  the  squads 
of  railroad  section  hands  we've  been  having  for  company 
lately.  They  knocked  all  the  romance  out  of  the  wildly 
beautiful  country  we've  been  coming  through  since  we  left 
the  Columbia  River." 

"Come  back  next  year;  then  a  boat  will  be  puffing 
up  here  to  the  landing,  and  you  can  cross  to  the  Columbia 
in  a  few  hours,  for  the  road  will  be  completed  then." 

"And  you — will  you  be  here  then  ?" 

"Well — yes;  I  reckon  so.  I  never  anchor  anywhere 
very  long;  but  this  country  suits  me,  and  the  company 
seems  to  need  me." 

The  young  fellow  looked  at  him  and  laughed,  and 
dropped  his  hand  on  the  broad  shoulder  with  a  certain 
degree  of  affection. 

"Seems  to  need  you?"  he  repeated.  "Well,  Mr.  Dan 
Overton,  if  the  day  ever  conies  when  I'm  necessary  to 
the  welfare  of  a  section  as  large  as  a  good-sized  State,  I 
hope  I'll  know  enough  to  appreciate  my  own  importance." 

"Hope  you  will,"  said  Overton,  with  a  kindly  smile. 


20  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"No  /eason  why  you  should  not  be  of  use.  Every  man 
with  a  fair  share  of  health  and  strength  ought  to  be  of 
use  somewhere." 

"Yes,  that  sounds  all  right  and  is  easy  to  grasp,  if  you 
have  been  brought  up  with  the  idea.  But  suppose  you 
had  been  trained  by  a  couple  of  maiden  aunts  who  only 
thought  to  give  you  the  manners  of  a  gentleman,  and 
leave  you  their  money  to  get  through  the  world  with? 
I  guess,  under  such  circumstances,  you,  too,  might  have 
settled  into  the  feathery  nest  prepared  for  you,  and 
thought  you  were  doing  your  duty  to  the  world  if  you 
were  only  ornamental,"  and  the  dubious  smile  on  his 
really  handsome  face  robbed  the  speech  of  any  vanity. 

"You're  all  right,  I  tell  you,"  returned  the  other.  "Don't 
growl  at  yourself  so  much.  You'll  find  your  work  and 
buckle  down  to  it,  some  of  these  days.  Maybe  you'll  find 
it  out  here — who  knows?  Of  course  Mr.  Seldon  would 
see  to  it  that  you  got  any  post  you  would  want  in  this 
district." 

"Yes,  he's  a  jolly  old  fellow,  and  has  shown  me  a  lot 
of  favors.  Seems  to  me  relatives  mean  more  to  folks 
out  here  than  they  do  East,  because  so  few  have  their 
families  or  relatives  along,  I  guess.  If  it  had  not  been  for 
Seldon,  I  rather  think  I  would  not  have  had  the  chance  of 
this  wild  trip  with  you." 

"Likely  not.  I  don't  generally  want  a  tenderfoot  along 
when  I've  work  to  do.  No  offense,  Max;  but  they  are 
too  often  a  hindrance.  Now  that  you  have  come,  though, 
I'll  confess  I'm  glad  of  it.  The  lonely  trips  over  this 
wild  region  tend  to  make  a  man  silent — a  bear  among 
people  when  he  does  reach  a  camp.  But  we've  talked 
most  of  the  time,  and  I  reckon  I  feel  the  better  of  it.  I 


A  STRANGE  GIRL  27 

know  I'll  miss  you  when  I  go  over  this  route  again. 
You'll  be  on  your  way  East  by  that  time." 

The  "cayuse"  bell  sounded  nearer  and  nearer,  and  di- 
rectly from  the  dense  forest  a  packhorse  came  stepping 
with  care  over  the  fallen  logs,  where  the  sign  of  a  trail 
was  yet  dim  to  any  eyes  but  those  of  a  woodsman.  A  bell 
at  its  neck  tinkled  as  it  walked,  and  after  it  four  others 
followed,  all  with  heavy  loads  bound  to  their  backs.  It 
looked  strange  to  see  the  patient  animals  thus  walk  with- 
out guide  or  driver  through  the  dense  timber  of  the 
mountains;  but  a  little  later  voices  were  heard,  and  two 
horsemen  came  out  of  the  shadows  of  the  wood,  and  fol- 
lowed the  horses  upward  along  the  bank  of  the  river  to 
where  a  little  stream  of  fresh  water  tumbled  down  to  the 
Kootenai.  There  a  little  camp  was  located,  an  insignifi- 
cant gathering  of  tents,  but  one  that  meant  a  promising 
event  to  the  country,  for  it  was  to  be  the  connecting  point 
of  the  boats  that  would  one  day  float  from  the  States 
on  the  river,  and  the  railroad  that  would  erelong  lead 
westward  over  the  trail  from  which  the  packhorses  were 
bringing  supplies. 

The  sun  was  setting  and  all  the  ripples  of  the  river 
shone  red  in  its  reflected  light.  Forests  of  pine  loomed 
up  black  and  shadowy  above  the  shores ;  and  there,  higher 
up — up  where  the  snow  was,  all  tips  of  the  river  range 
were  tinged  a  warm  pink,  and  where  the  shadows  lay,  the 
lavender  and  faint  purples  drifted  into  each  other,  and  bit 
by  bit  crowded  the  pink  line  higher  and  higher  until  it 
dared  touch  only  the  topmost  peaks  with  its  lingering 
kiss. 

Lyster  halted  to  look  over  the  wild  beauty  of  the  wilder- 
ness, and  from  the  harmony  of  river  and  hills  and  sky 
his  eyes  turned  to  Overton. 


28  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"You  are  right,  Dan,"  he  said,  with  an  appreciative 
Bmile,  a  smile  that  opened  his  lips  and  showed  how  perfect 
the  mouth  was  under  the  brown  mustache — "you  are 
right  enough  to  keep  close  to  all  these  beauties.  You  seem 
in  some  way  to  belong  to  them — not  that  you  are  so 
much  'a  thing  of  beauty'  yourself,"  and  the  smile  widened 
a  little;  "but  you  have  in  you  all  the  strength  of  the 
hills  and  the  patience  of  the  wilderness.  You  know  what 
I  mean." 

"Yes,  I  guess  so,"  answered  Overton.  "You  want  some 
one  to  spout  verses  to  or  make  love  to,  and  there  is  no 
subject  handy.  I  can  make  allowances  for  you,  though. 
Those  tendencies  are  apt  to  stick  to  a  man  for  about  a 
year  after  a  trip  to  Southern  California.  I  don't  know 
whether  it's  the  girls  down  there,  or  the  wine  that  is  ac- 
countable for  it;  but  whatever  it  is,  you  have  been  back 
from  there  only  three  months.  You've  three-quarters  of 
a  year  to  run  yet — maybe  more ;  for  I've  a  notion  that 
you  have  a  leaning  in  that  direction  even  in  your  most 
sensible  moments." 

"H'm !  You  must  have  made  a  trip  to  that  wine  coun- 
try yourself  sometime,"  observed  Lyster.  "Your  theory 
suggests  practice.  Were  there  girls  and  wine  there  then  ?" 

"Plenty,"  returned  Overton,  briefly.  "Come  on.  There's 
the  cook  shouting  supper." 

"And  after  supper  we're  to  go  over  to  the  Kootenai 
camp.  Say !  what  is  the  meaning  of  that  name,  anyway  ? 
You  know  all  their  jargons  up  here;  do  you  know  that, 
too?" 

"Nobody  does,  I  reckon ;  there  are  lots  of  theories  flying 
around.  The  generally  accepted  one  is  that  they  were 
called  the  'Court  Nez*  by  the  French  trappers  long  ago, 
and  that  Kootenai  is  the  result,  after  generations  of  Indian 


A  STRANGE  GIRL  29 

pronunciation.  They  named  the  'Nes  Perces'  too — the 
'pierced  noses/  you  know;  but  that  name  has  kept  its 
meaning  better.  You'll  find  the  trail  of  the  French  all 
through  the  Indian  tribes  up  here." 

"Think  that  was  a  Frenchwoman  in  the  river  back 
there?  You  said  she  was  white." 

"Yes,  I  did.  But  it's  generally  the  Frenchmen  you 
find  among  the  reds,  and  not  the  women;  though  I  do 
know  some  square  white  women  across  the  line  who  have 
married  educated  Indians." 

"But  they  are  generally  a  lazy,  shiftless  set  ?" 

The  tone  was  half  inquiring,  and  Overton  grimaced 
and  smiled. 

"They  are  not  behind  the  rest,  when  it  comes  to  a 
fight,"  he  answered.  "And  as  to  lazy — well,  there  are 
several  colors  of  people  who  are  that,  under  some  cir- 
cumstances. I  have  an  Indian  friend  across  in  the  States, 
who  made  eight  thousand  dollars  in  a  cattle  deal  last  year, 
and  didn't  sell  out,  either.  Now,  when  you  and  I  can  do 
as  well  on  capital  we've  earned  ourselves,  then  maybe 
we'll  have  a  right  to  criticise  some  of  the  rest  for  in- 
dolence. But  you  can't  do  much  to  improve  Indians, 
or  any  one  else,  by  penning  them  up  in  so  many  square 
miles  and  bribing  them  to  be  good.  The  Indian  cattle- 
man I  speak  of  kept  clear  of  the  reservation,  and  after 
drifting  around  for  a  while,  settled  down  to  the  most 
natural  civilized  calling  possible  to  an  Indian — stock- 
raising.  Dig  in  the  ground?  No;  they  won't  do  much 
of  that,  just  at  first.  But  I've  eaten  some  pretty  good 
garden  truck  they've  raised." 

Lyster  whistled  and  arched  his  handsome  brows  sig- 
nificantly. 

"So  your  sympathies  run  in  that  direction,  do  they  ?  Is 
3 


30  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

there  a  Kootenai  Pocahontas  somewhere  in  the  wilder- 
ness accountable  for  your  ideas  ?  That  is  about  the  only 
ground  I  could  excuse  you  on,  for  I  think  they  are  beastly, 
except  in  pictures." 

They  had  reached  a  gathering  of  men  who  were  seated 
at  a  table  in  the  open  air — some  long  boards  laid  on 
trestles. 

Overton  and  his  friend  were  called  to  seats  at  the  head 
of  the  table,  where  the  "boss"  of  the  construction  gang 
sat.  The  rough  pleasantries  of  the  men,  and  the  way  they 
made  room  for  him,  showed  that  the  big  bronzed  ranger 
was  a  favorite  visitor  along  the  "works/' 

They  looked  with  some  curiosity  at  his  more  finely 
garbed  companion,  but  he  returned  their  regard  with  a 
good  deal  of  careless  audacity,  and  won  their  liking  by 
his  independence.  But  in  the  midst  of  the  social  studies 
he  was  making  of  them,  he  heard  Overton  say : 

"And  you  have  not  heard  of  a  white  girl  in  this 
vicinity?" 

"Never  a  girl.  Are  you  looking  for  one?  Old  Ak- 
komi,  the  Indian,  has  gone  into  camp  across  the  river,  and 
he  might  have  a  red  one  to  spare." 

"Perhaps,"  agreed  Overton.  "He's  an  old  acquaint- 
ance of  mine — a  year  old.  But  I'm  not  looking  for  red 
girls  just  now,  and  I'm  going  to  tell  the  old  man  to  keep 
the  families  clear  of  your  gang,  too."  Then  to  Lyster  he 
remarked : 

"Whether  these  people  know  it  or  not,  there  is  a  white 
girl  in  the  Indian  camp — a  young  girl,  too;  and  before 
we  sleep,  we'll  see  who  she  is." 


IN  THE  LODGE  OF  AKKOMI      31 


CHAPTER  II. 

IN    THE    LODGE    OF    AKKOMI. 

The  earliest  stars  had  picked  their  way  through  the 
blue  canopy,  when  the  men  from  the  camp  crossed  over 
to  the  fishing  village  of  the  Indians ;  for  it  was  only  when 
the  moon  of  May,  or  of  June,  lightened  the  sky  that  the 
red  men  moved  their  lodges  to  the  north — their  winter 
resort  was  the  States. 

"Dan — umph!  How?"  grunted  a  tall  brave  loung- 
ing at  the  opening  of  the  tepee.  He  arose,  and  took  his 
pipe  from  his  lips,  glancing  with  assumed  indifference 
at  the  handsome  young  stranger,  though,  in  reality, 
Black  Bow  was  not  above  curiosity. 

"How?"  returned  Overton,  and  reached  out  his  hand. 
"I  am  glad  to  see  that  the  lodges  by  the  river  hold 
friends  instead  of  strangers,"  he  continued.  "This,  too, 
is  a  friend — one  from  the  big  ocean  where  the  sun  rises. 
We  call  him  Max." 

"Umph!  How?"  and  Lyster  glanced  in  comical  dis- 
may at  his  friend  as  his  hand  was  grasped  by  one  so 
dirty,  so  redolent  of  cooked  fish,  as  the  one  Black  Bow 
was  gracious  enough  to  offer  him. 

Thereupon  they  were  asked  to  seat  themselves  on 
the  blanket  of  that  dignitary — no  small  favor  in  the 
eyes  of  an  Indian.  Overton  talked  of  the  fish,  and  the 
easy  markets  there  would  soon  be  for  them,  when  the 
boats  and  the  cars  came  pushing  swiftly  through  the 
forests;  of  the  many  wolves  Black  Bow  had  killed  in 


32  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

the  winter  past;  of  how  well  the  hunting  shirt  of  deer- 
skin had  worn  that  Black  Bow's  squaw  had  sold  him 
when  he  met  them  last  on  the  trail ;  of  any  and  many- 
things  but  the  episode  of  the  evening  of  which  Lyster 
was  waiting  to  hear. 

As  the  dusk  fell,  Lyster  fully  appreciated  the  pictur- 
esque qualities  of  the  scene  before  him.  The  many 
dogs  and  their  friendly  attentions  disturbed  him  some- 
what, but  he  sat  there  feeling  much  as  if  in  a  theater; 
for  those  barbarians,  in  their  groupings,  reminded  him 
of  bits  of  stage  setting  he  had  seen  at  some  time  or  an- 
other. 

One  big  fire  was  outside  the  lodges,  and  over  it  a 
big  kettle  hung,  and  the  steam  drifted  up  and  over  the 
squaws  and  children  gathered  there.  Some  of  them 
came  over  and  looked  at  him,  and  several  grunted  at 
Overton.  Black  Bow  would  order  them  away  once  in  a 
while  with  a  lordly  "Klehowyeh,"  much  as  he  did  the 
dogs;  and,  like  the  dogs,  they  would  promptly  return, 
and  gaze  with  half-veiled  eyes  at  the  elegance  of  the 
high  boots  covering  the  shapely  limbs  of  Mr.  Lyster. 

The  men  were  away  on  a  hunt,  Black  Bow  explained ; 
only  he  and  Akkomi,  the  head  chief,  had  not  gone.  Ak- 
komi  was  growing  very  old  and  no  longer  led  the 
hunts;  therefore  a  young  chief  must  ever  be  near  to 
his  call;  so  Black  Bow  was  also  absent  from  the  hunt. 

"We  stay  until  two  suns  rise,"  and  Overton  pointed 
across  to  the  camp  of  the  whites.  "To-morrow  I  would 
ask  that  Black  Bow  and  the  chief  Akkomi  eat  at  our 
table.  This  is  the  kinsman — tillicums — of  the  men  who 
make  the  great  work  where  the  mines  are  and  the  boats 
that  are  big  and  the  cars  that  go  faster  than  the  horses 
run.  He  wants  that  the  two  great  chiefs  of  the  Koote- 


IN  THE  LODGE  OF  AKKOMI  33 

nais  eat  of  his  food  before  he  goes  back  again  to  the 
towns  of  the  white  people." 

Lyster  barely  repressed  a  groan  as  he  heard  the  pro- 
posal made,  but  Overton  was  blandly  oblivious  of  the 
appealing  expression  of  his  friend;  the  thing  he  was  in- 
terested in  was  to  bring  Black  Bow  to  a  communicative 
mood,  for  not  a  sign  could  he  discover  of  a  white  woman 
in  the  camp,  though  he  was  convinced  there  was  or  had 
been  one  there. 

The  invitation  to  eat  succeeded.  Black  Bow  would 
tell  the  old  chief  of  their  visit;  maybe  he  would  talk 
with  them  now,  but  he  was  not  sure.  The  chief  was 
tired,  his  thoughts  had  been  troubled  that  day.  The 
son  of  his  daughter  had  been  near  death  in  the  river 
there.  He  was  only  a  child,  and  could  not  swim  yet;  a 
young  squaw  of  the  white  people  had  kept  him  from 
drowning,  and  the  squaw  of  Akkomi  had  been  making 
medicines  for  her  ever  since. 

"Young  squaw!  Where  comes  a  white  squaw  from 
to  the  Kootenai  lakes?"  asked  Overton,  incredulously. 
"Half  white,  half  red,  maybe." 

"White,"  affirmed  their  host.  "Where?  Humph! 
Where  come  the  sea-birds  from  that  get  lost  when  they 
fly  too  far  from  shore?  Kootenai  not  know,  but  they 
drop  down  sometimes  by  the  rivers.  So  this  one  has 
come.  She  has  talked  with  Akkomi ;  but  he  tell  nothing ; 
only  maybe  we  will  all  dance  a  dance  some  day,  and 
then  she  will  be  Kootenai,  too." 

"Adopt  her,"  muttered  Overton,  and  glanced  at  Lys- 
ter; but  that  gentleman's  attention  was  given  at  the 
moment  to  a  couple  of  squaws  who  walked  past  and 
looked  at  him  out  of  the  corners  of  their  eyes,  so  he 


34:  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

missed  that  portion  of  Black  Bow's  figurative  informa- 
tion. 

"I  have  need  to  see  the  chief  Akkomi,"  said  Overton, 
after  a  moment's  thought.  "It  would  be  well  if  I  could 
see  him  before  sleeping.  Of  these,"  producing  two  col- 
ored handkerchiefs,  "will  you  give  one  to  him,  that  he 
may  know  I  am  in  earnest,  the  other-  will  you  not  wear 
for  Dan?" 

The  brave  grunted  a  pleased  assent,  and  carefully  se- 
lecting the  handkerchief  with  the  brightest  border, 
thrust  it  within  his  hunting  shirt.  He  then  proceeded 
to  the  lodge  of  the  old  chief,  bearing  the  other  ostenta- 
tiously in  his  hand,  as  though  he  were  carrying  the  fate 
of  his  nation  in  the  gaudy  bit  of  silk  and  cotton  weaving. 

"What  are  you  trading  for  ?"  asked  Lyster,  and  looked 
like  protesting,  when  Overton  answered : 

"An  audience  with  Akkomi." 

"Great  Caesar!  is  one  of  that  sort  not  enough?  I'll 
never  feel  that  my  hand  is  clean  again  until  I  can  give  it 
a  bath  with  some  sort  of  disinfectant  stuff.  Now  there's 
another  one  to  greet!  I'll  not  be  able  to  eat  fish  again 
for  a  year.  Why  didn't  luck  send  the  old  vagabond 
hunting  with  the  rest?  I  can  endure  the  women,  for 
they  don't  sprawl  around  you  and  shake  hands  with  you. 
Just  tell  me  what  I'm  to  donate  for  being  allowed  to 
bask  in  the  light  of  Akkomi's  countenance?  Haven't  a 
thing  over  here  but  some  cigars." 

Overton  only  laughed  silently,  and  gave  more  attention 
to  the  lodge  of  Akkomi  than  to  his  companion's  disgust. 
When  Black  Bow  emerged  from  the  tent,  he  watched 
him  sharply  as  he  approached,  to  learn  from  the  Indiaf's 
countenance,  if  possible,  the  result  of  the  message. 

"If  he  sends  a  royal  request  that  we  partake  of  sup- 


IN  THE  LODGE  OF  AKKOMI  35 

per,  I  warn  you,  I  shall  be  violently  and  immediately 
taken  ill — too  ill  to  eat,"  whispered  Lyster,  meaningly. 

Black  Bow  seated  himself,  filled  his  pipe,  handed  it  to 
a  squaw  to  light,  and  then  sent  several  puffs  of  smoke 
skyward,  ere  he  said: 

"Akkomi  is  old,  and  the  time  for  his  rest  has  come. 
He  says  the  door  of  his  lodge  is  open — that  Dan  may 
go  within  and  speak  what  there  is  to  say.  But  the 
stranger — he  must  wait  till  the  day  comes  again.'' 

"Snubbed  me,  by  George!"  laughed  Lyster.  "Well, 
am  I  then  to  wait  outside  the  portals,  and  be  content 
with  the  crumbs  you  choose  to  carry  out  to  me?" 

"Oh,  amuse  yourself,"  returned  Overton,  carelessly, 
and  was  on  his  feet  at  once.  "I  leave  you  to  the  enjoy- 
ment of  Black  Bow." 

A  moment  later  he  reached  the  lodge  of  the  old  chief 
and,  without  ceremony,  walked  in  to  the  center  of  it. 

A  slight  fire  was  there, — just  enough  to  kill  the  damp- 
ness of  the  river's  edge,  and  over  it  the  old  squaw  of 
Akkomi  bent,  raking  the  dry  sticks,  until  the  flames 
fluttered  upward  and  outlined  the  form  of  the  chief, 
coiled  on  a  pile  of  skins  and  blankets  against  the  wall. 

He  nodded  a  welcome,  said  "Klehowyeh,"  and  mo- 
tioned with  his  pipe  that  his  visitor  should  be  seated  on 
another  pile  of  clothing  and  bedding,  near  his  own 
person. 

Then  it  was  that  Overton  discovered  a  fourth  person 
in  the  shadows  opposite  him — the  white  woman  he  had 
been  curious  about. 

And  it  was  not  a  woman  at  all, — only  a  girl  of  perhaps 
sixteen  years  instead — who  shrank  back  into  the  gloom, 
and  frowned  on  him  with  great,  dark,  unchildlike  eyes, 
and  from  under  brows  wide  and  straight  as  those  of  a 


36  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

sculptor's  model  for  a  young  Greek  god;  for,  if  any 
beauty  of  feature  was  hers,  it  was  boyish  in  its  character. 
As  for  beauty  of  expression,  she  assuredly  did  not  culti- 
vate that.  The  curved  red  mouth  was  sullen  and  the  eyes 
antagonistic. 

One  sharp  glance  showed  Overton  all  this,  and  also 
that  there  was  no  Indian  blood  back  of  the  rather  pale 
cheek. 

"So  you  got  out  of  the  water  alive,  did  you?"  he 
asked,  in  a  matter  of  fact  way,  as  though  the  dip  in  the 
river  was  a  usual  thing  to  see. 

She  raised  her  eyes  and  lowered  them  again  with  a 
sort  of  insolence,  as  though  to  show  her  resentment  of 
the  fact  that  he  addressed  her  at  all. 

"I  rather  guess  I'm  alive,"  she  answered,  curtly,  and 
the  visitor  turned  to  the  chief. 

"I  saw  to-day  your  child's  child  in  the  waters  of  the 
Kootenai.  I  saw  the  white  friend  lifting  him  up  out 
of  the  river,  and  fighting  with  death  for  him.  It  would 
have  been  a  good  thing  for  a  man  to  do,  Akkomi.  I 
crossed  the  water  to-night,  to  see  if  your  boy  is  well 
once  more,  or  if  there  is  any  way  I  can  do  service  for  the 
young  white  squaw  who  is  your  friend." 

The  old  Indian  smoked  in  silence  for  a  full  minute. 
He  was  a  sharp-eyed,  shrewd-faced  old  fellow.  When 
he  spoke,  it  was  in  the  Chinook  jargon,  and  with  a  sig- 
nificant nod  toward  the  girl,  as  though  she  was  not  to 
hear  or  understand  his  words. 

"It  is  true,  the  son  of  my  daughter  is  again  alive.  The 
breath  was  gone  when  the  young  squaw  reached  him, 
but  she  was  in  time.  Dan  know  the  young  squaw,  may- 
be?" 

"No,  Akkomi.     Who?" 


IN  THE  LODGE  OF  AKKOMI  37 

The  old  fellow  shook  his  head,  as  if  not  inclined  to 
give  the  information  required. 

"She  tell  white  men  if  she  want  white  men  to  know," 
he  observed.  "The  heart  of  Akkomi  is  heavy  for  her — 
heavy.  A  lone  trail  is  a  hard  one  for  a  squaw  in  the 
Kootenai  land — a  white  squaw  who  is  young.  She 
rests  here,  and  may  eat  of  our  meat  all  her  days  if  she 
will." 

Overton  glanced  again  at  the  girl,  who  was  evidently^ 
from  the  words  of  the  chief,  following  some  lone  trail 
through  the  wilderness, — a  trail  starting  whence,  and 
leading  whither?  All  that  he  could  read  was  that  no 
happiness  kept  her  company. 

"But  the  life  of  a  red  squaw  in  the  white  men's  camps 
is  a  bad  life,"  resumed  the  old  man,  after  a  season  of 
deliberation;  "and  the  life  of  the  white  squaw  in  the 
red  man's  village  is  bad  as  well." 

Overton  nodded  gravely,  but  said  nothing.  By  the 
manner  of  Akkomi,  he  perceived  that  some  important 
thought  was  stirring  in  the  old  man's  mind,  and  that  it 
would  develop  into  speech  all  the  sooner  if  not  hurried. 

"Of  all  the  men  of  the  white  camps  it  is  you  Akkomi 
is  gladdest  to  talk  to  this  day,"  continued  the  chief, 
after  another  season  of  silence;  "for  you,  Dan,  talk 
with  a  tongue  that  is  straight,  and  you  go  many  times 
where  the  great  towns  are  built." 

"The  words  of  Akkomi  are  true  words,"  assented 
Overton,  "and  my  ears  listen  to  hear  what  he  will  say." 

"Where  the  white  men  live  is  where  this  young  white 
squaw  should  live/'  said  Akkomi,  and  the  listening 
squaw  of  Akkomi  grunted  assent.  It  was  easy  to  read 
that  she  looked  with  little  favor  on  the  strange  white 
girl  within  their  lodge.  To  be  sure,  Akkomi  was  grow- 


38  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

ing  old ;  but  the  wife  of  Akkomi  had  memories  of  his 
lusty  youth  and  of  various  wars  she  had  been  forced  to 
wage  on  ambitious  squaws  who  fancied  it  would  be  well 
to  dwell  in  the  lodge  of  the  head  chief. 

And  remembering  those  days,  though  so  long  past, 
the  old  squaw  was  sorely  averse  to  the  adoption  dance 
for  the  white  girl  who  lay  on  their  blankets,  and  thought 
it  good,  indeed,  that  she  go  to  live  in  the  villages  of  the 
white  people. 

Overton  nodded  gravely. 

"You  speak  wisely,  Akkomi,"  he  said. 

Glancing  at  the  girl,  Dan  noted  that  she  was  leaning 
forward  and  gazing  at  him  intently.  Her  face  gave  him 
the  uncomfortable  feeling  that  she  perhaps  knew  what 
they  were  talking  of,  but  she  dropped  back  into  the 
shadows  again,  and  he  dismissed  the  idea  as  improbable, 
for  white  girls  were  seldom  versed  in  the  lore  of  Indian 
jargon. 

He  waited  a  bit  for  Akkomi  to  continue,  but  as  that 
dignitary  evidently  thought  he  had  said  enough,  if  Over- 
ton  chose  to  interpret  it  correctly,  the  white  man  asked : 

"Would  it  please  Akkomi  that  I,  Dan,  should  lead 
the  young  squaw  where  white  families  are?" 

"Yes.  It  is  that  I  thought  of  when  I  heard  your  name. 
I  am  old.  I  cannot  take  her.  She  has  come  a  long  way 
on  a  trail  for  that  which  has  not  been  found,  and  her 
heart  is  so  heavy  she  does  not  care  where  the  next  trail 
leads  her.  So  it  seems  to  Akkomi.  But  she  saved  the  son 
of  my  daughter,  and  I  would  wish  good  to  her.  So,  if 
she  is  willing,  I  would  have  her  go  to  your  people." 

"If  she  is  willing!"  Overton  doubted  it,  and  thought 
of  the  scowl  with  which  she  had  answered  him  before. 
After  a  little  hesitation,  he  said:  "It  shall  be  as  you 


IN  THE  LODGE  OF  AKKOMI  39 

wish.  I  am  very  busy  now,  but  to  serve  one  who  is  your 
friend  I  will  take  time  for  a  few  days.  Do  you  know 
the  girl?" 

"I  know  her,  and  her  father  before  her.  It  was  long 
ago,  but  my  eyes  are  good.  I  remember.  She  is  good 
— girl  not  afraid." 

"Father !    Where  is  her  father?" 

"In  the  grave  blankets — so  she  tells  me." 

"And  her  name — what  is  she  called?" 

But  Akkomi  was  not  to  be  stripped  of  all  his  knowl- 
edge by  questions.  He  puffed  at  the  pipe  in  silence  and 
then,  as  Overton  was  as  persistently  quiet  as  himself,  he 
finally  said: 

"The  white  girl  will  tell  to  you  the  things  she  wants 
you  to  know,  if  she  goes  with  your  people.  If  she  stays 
here,  the  lodge  of  Akkomi  has  a  blanket  for  her." 

The  girl  was  now  face  downward  on  the  couch  of 
skins,  and  when  Overton  wished  to  speak  to  her  he 
crossed  over  and  gently  touched  her  shoulder.  He  was 
almost  afraid  she  was  weeping,  because  of  the  position; 
but  when  she  raised  her  head  he  saw  no  signs  of  tears. 

"Why  do  you  come  to  me?"  she  demanded.  "I  ain't 
troubling  the  white  folks  any.  Huh !  I  didn't  even  stop 
at  their  camp  across  the  river." 

The  grunt  of  disdain  she  launched  at  him  made  him 
smile.  It  was  so  much  more  like  that  of  an  Indian  than 
a  white  person,  yet  she  was  white,  despite  all  the  red 
manners  she  chose  to  adopt. 

"No,  I  reckon  you  didn't  stop  at  the  white  camp,  else 
I'd  have  heard  of  it.  But  as  you're  alone  in  this  country, 
don't  you  think  you'd  be  better  off  where  other  white 
women  live?" 


40  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

He  spoke  in  the  kindliest  tone,  and  she  only  bit  her 
lip  and  shrugged  her  angular  shoulders. 

"I  will  see  that  you  are  left  with  good  people/'  he  con- 
tinued; "so  don't  be  afraid  about  that.  I'm  Dan  Over- 
ton.  Akkomi  will  tell  you  I'm  square.  I  know  where 
there's  a  good  sort  of  white  woman  who  would  be  glad 
to  have  you  around,  I  guess." 

"Is  it  your  wife?"  she  demanded,  with  the  same  sul- 
len, suspicious  wrinkle  between  her  brows. 

His  face  paled  ever  so  little  and  he  took  a  step  back- 
ward, as  he  looked  at  her  through  narrowing  eyes. 

"No,  miss,  it  is  not  my  wife,"  he  said,  curtly,  and 
then  walked  back  and  sat  down  beside  the  old  chief.  "In 
fact,  she  isn't  any  relation  to  me,  but  she's  the  nearest 
white  woman  I  know  to  leave  you  with.  If  you  want  to 
go  farther,  I  reckon  I  can  help  you.  Anyway,  you  come 
along  across  the  line  to  Sinna  Ferry,  and  I  feel  sure 
you'll  find  friends  there." 

She  looked  at  him  unbelievingly.  "She's  used  to  be- 
ing deceived,"  decided  Overton,  as  she  watched  him; 
but  he  stood  her  gaze  without  flinching  and  smiled  back 
at  her. 

"Do  you  live  there?"  she  asked  again,  in  that  abrupt, 
uncivil  way,  and  turned  her  eyes  to  Akkomi,  as  though 
to  read  his  countenance  as  well  as  that  of  the  white 
man, — a  difficult  thing,  however,  for  the  head  of  the 
old  man  was  again  shrouded  in  his  blanket,  from  which 
only  the  tip  of  his  nose  and  his  pipe  protruded. 

In  a  far  corner  the  squaw  of  Akkomi  was  crouched, 
her  bead-like  eyes  glittering  with  a  watchful  interest,  as 
they  turned  from  one  to  the  other  of  the  speakers,  and 
missed  no  tone  or  gesture  of  the  two  so  strangely  met 
within  her  tepee.  Overton  noticed  her  once,  and  thought 


IN  THE  LODGE  OF  AKKOMI  41 

what  a  subject  for  a  picture  Lyster  would  think  the 
whole  thing — at  long  range.  He  would  want  to  view 
it  from  the  door  of  the  tepee,  and  not  from  the  interior. 

But  the  questioning  eyes  of  the  girl  were  turned  to 
him,  and  remembering  them,  he  said: 

"Live  there?  Well,  as  much — a  little  more  than  I  do 
anywhere  else  of  late.  I  am  to  go  there  in  two  days; 
and  if  you  are  ready  to  go,  I  will  take  you  and  be  glad 
to  do  it." 

"You  don't  know  anything  about  me,"  she  protested. 

He  smiled,  for  her  tone  told  him  she  was  yielding. 

"Oh,  no — not  much,"  he  confessed,  "but  you  can  tell 
me,  you  know." 

"I  know  I  can,  but  I  won't,"  she  said,  doggedly.  "So 
I  guess  you'll  just  move  on  down  to  the  ferry  without 
me.  He  knows,  and  he  says  I  can  live  here  if  I  want  to. 
I'm  tired  of  the  white  people.  A  girl  alone  is  as  well 
with  the  Indians.  I  think  so,  anyway,  and  I  guess  I'll 
try  camping  with  them.  They  don't  ask  a  word — only 
what  I  tell  myself.  They  don't  even  care  whether  I  have 
a  name ;  they  would  give  me  one  if  I  hadn't." 

"A  suitable  name — and  a  nice  Indian  one — for  you 
would  be,  'The  Water  Rat'  or  'The  Girl  Who  Swims/ 
Maybe,"  he  added,  "they  will  hunt  you  up  one  more 
like  poetry  in  books  (the  only  place  one  finds  poetry  in 
Indians),  'Laughing  Eyes,'  or  'The  One  Who  Smiles/ 
Oh,  yes,  they'll  find  you  a  name  fast  enough.  So  will  I, 
if  you  have  none.  But  you  have,  haven't  you  ?" 

"Yes,  I  have,  and  it's  'Tana,"  said  the  girl,  piqued 
into  telling  by  the  humorous  twinkle  in  the  man's  eyes. 

"  'Tana  ?  Why,  that  itself  is  an  Indian  name,  is  it 
not?  And  you  are  not  Indian." 

"It's  'Tana,  for  short.     Montana  is  my  name/' 


42  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"It  is?  Well,  you've  got  a  big  name,  little  girl,  and 
as  it  is  proof  that  you  belong  to  the  States,  don't  you 
think  you'd  better  let  me  take  you  back  there  ?" 

"I  ain't  going  down  among  white  folks  who  will  turn 
up  their  noses  at  me,  just  because  you  found  me  among 
these  redskins,"  she  answered,  scowling  at  him  and 
speaking  very  deliberately.  "I  know  how  proud  decent 
women  are,  and  I  ain't  going  among  any  other  sort 
and  that's  settled." 

"Why,  you  poor  little  one,  what  sort  of  folks  have  you 
been  among?"  he  asked,  compassionately.  Her  stub- 
born antagonism  filled  him  with  more  of  pity  than  tears 
could  have  done;  it  showed  so  much  suspicion,  that 
spoke  of  horrible  associations,  and  she  was  so  young ! 

"See  here!  No  one  need  know  I  found  you  among 
the  Indians.  I  can  make  up  some  story — say  you're  the 
daughter  of  an  old  partner  of  mine.  It'll  be  a  lie,  of 
course,  and  I  don't  approve  of  lies.  But  if  it  makes  you 
feel  better,  it  goes  just  the  same!  Partner  dies,  you 
know,  and  I  fall  heir  to  you.  See?  Then,  of  course, 
I  pack  you  back  to  civilization,  where  you  can — well, 
go  to  school  or  something.  How's  that?" 

She  did  not  answer,  only  looked  at  him  strangely,  from 
under  those  straight  brows.  He  felt  an  angry  impatience 
with  her  that  she  did  not  take  the  proposal  differently, 
when  it  was  so  plainly  for  her  good  he  was  making 
schemes. 

"As  to  your  father  being  dead — that  part  of  it  would 
be  true  enough,  I  suppose,"  he  continued ;  "for  Akkomi 
told  me  he  was  dead." 

"Yes — yes,  he  is  dead,"  she  said  coldly,  and  her  tones 
were  so  even  no  one  would  imagine  it  was  her  father 
she  spoke  of. 


IN  THE  LODGE  OF  AKKOMI  43 

"Your  mother,  too?" 

"My  mother,  too/'  she  assented.  "But  I  told  you  I 
wasn't  going  to  talk  any  more  about  myself,  and  I  ain't. 
If  I  can't  go  to  your  Sunday-school  without  a  pedigree, 
I'll  stop  where  I  am— that's  all." 

She  spoke  with  the  independence  of  a  boy,  and  it  was, 
perhaps,  her  independence  that  induced  the  man  to  be 
persistent. 

"All  right,  Tana,"  he  said  cheerfully.  "You  come 
along  on  your  own  terms,  so  long  as  you  get  out  of  these 
quarters.  I'll  tell  the  dead  partner  story — only  the  part- 
ner must  have  a  name,  you  know.  Montana  is  a  good 
name,  but  it  is  only  a  half  one,  after  all.  You  can  give 
me  another,  I  reckon." 

She  hesitated  a  little  and  stared  at  the  glowing  em- 
bers of  the  lodge  fire.  •  He  wondered  if  she  was  deciding 
to  tell  him  a  true  one,  or  if  she  was  trying  to  think  of  a 
fictitious  one. 

"Well?"  he  said  at  last. 

Then  she  looked  up,  and  the  sullen,  troubled,  unchild- 
like  eyes  made  him  troubled  for  her  sake. 

"Rivers  is  a  good  name — Rivers?"  she  asked,  and  he 
nodded  his  head,  grimly. 

"That  will  do,"  he  agreed.  "But  you  give  it  just  be- 
cause you  were  baptized  in  the  river  this  evening,  don't 
you?" 

"I  guess  I  give  it  because  I  haven't  any  other  I  intend 
to  be  called  by,"  she  answered. 

"And  you  will  cut  loose  from  this  outfit?"  he  asked. 
"You  will  come  with  me,  little  girl,  across  there  into 
God's  country,  where  you  must  belong." 

"You  won't  let  them  look  down  on  me?" 

"If  any  one  looks  down  on  you,  it  will  be  because  of 


4:4:  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

something  you  will  do  in  the  future,  'Tana/'  he  said, 
looking  at  her  very  steadily.  "Understand  that,  for  I  will 
settle  it  that  no  one  knows  how  I  came  across  you.  And 
you  will  go?" 

"I— will  go." 

"Come,  now!  that's  a  good  decision — the  best  you 
could  have  made,  little  girl ;  and  I'll  take  care  of  you  as 
though  you  were  a  cargo  of  gold.  Shake  hands  on  the 
agreement,  won't  you?" 

She  held  out  her  hand,  and  the  old  squaw  in  the 
corner  grunted  at  the  symbol  of  friendship.  Akkomi 
watched  them  with  his  glittering  eyes,  but  made  no  sign. 

It  surely  was  a  strange  beginning  to  a  strange  friend- 
ship. 

"You  poor  little  thing!"  said  Overton,  compassion- 
ately, as  she  half  shrank  from  the  clasp  of  his  fingers.  The 
tender  tone  broke  through  whatever  wall  of  indifference 
she  had  built  about  her,  for  she  flung  herself  face  down- 
ward on  the  couch,  and  sobbed  passionately,  refusing  to 
speak  again,  though  Overton  tried  in  vain  to  calm  her. 


THE  IMAGE-MAKER  45 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  IMAGE-MAKER. 

The  world  was  a  night  older  ere  Dan  Overton  in- 
formed Lyster  that  they  would  have  an  addition  of  one 
to  their  party  when  they  continued  their  journey  into  the 
States. 

On  leaving  the  village  of  Akkomi  but  little  conversa- 
tion was  to  be  had  from  Dan.  In  vain  did  his  friend  en- 
deavor to  learn  something  of  the  white  squaw  who  swam 
so  well.  He  simply  kept  silence,  and  looked  with  pro- 
voking disregard  on  all  attempts  to  surprise  him  into  dis- 
closures. 

But  when  the  camp  breakfast  was  over,  and  he  had 
evidently  thought  out  his  plan  of  action,  he  told  Lyster 
over  the  sociable  influence  of  a  pipe,  that  he  was  going 
over  to  the  camp  of  Akkomi  again. 

"The  fact,  is,  Max,  that  the  girl  we  saw  yesterday  is 
to  go  across  home  with  us.  She's  a  ward  of  mine." 

"What!"  demanded  Max,  sitting  bolt  upright  in  his 
amazement,  "a  ward  of  yours?  You  say  that  as  though 
you  had  several  scattered  among  the  tribes  about  here. 
So  it  is  a  Kootenai  Pocahontas !  What  good  advice  was 
it  you  gave  me  yesterday  about  keeping  clear  of  Selkirk 
Range  females  ?  And  now  you  are  deliberately  gathering 
one  to  yourself,  and  I  will  be  the  unnecessary  third  on 
our  journey  home.  Dan !  Dan !  I  wouldn't  have  thought 
it  of  you !" 
4 


4G  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

Overton  listened  in  silence  until  the  first  outburst  was 
over. 

"Through?"  he  asked,  carelessly;  "well,  then,  it  isn't 
a  Pocahontas ;  it  isn't  an  Indian  at  all.  It  is  only  a  little 
white  girl  whose  father  was — was  an  old  partner.  Well, 
he's  gone  'over  the  range' — dead,  you  know — and  the 
girl  is  left  to  hustle  for  herself.  Naturally,  she  heard  I 
was  in  this  region,  and  as  none  of  her  daddy's  old  friend  > 
were  around  but  me,  she  just  made  her  camp  over  there 
with  the  Kootenais,  and  waited  till  I  reached  the  river 
again.  She'll  go  with  me  down  to  Sinna;  and  if  she 
hasn't  any  other  home  in  prospect,  I'll  just  locate  her  there 
with  Mrs.  Huzzard,  the  milliner-cook,  for  the  present. 
Now,  that's  the  story." 

"And  a  very  pretty  little  one  it  is,  too,"  agreed  Mr. 
Max.  "For  a  backwoodsman,  who  is  not  supposed  to 
have  experience,  it  is  very  well  put  together.  Oh,  don't 
frown  like  that!  I'll  believe  she's  your  granddaughter, 
if  you  say  so,"  and  he  laughed  in  wicked  enjoyment  at 
Overton's  flushed  face.  "It's  all  right,  Dan.  I  congrat- 
ulate you.  But  I  wouldn't  have  thought  it." 

"I  suppose,  now,"  remarked  Dan,  witheringly,  "that 
by  all  these  remarks  and  giggles  you  are  trying  to  be 
funny.  Is  that  it?  Well,  as  the  fun  of  it  is  not  visible 
to  me  yet,  I'll  just  keep  my  laughter  till  it  is.  In  the 
meantime,  I'm  going  over  to  call  on  my  ward,  Miss 
Rivers,  and  you  can  hustle  for  funny  things  around  camp 
until  I  come  back." 

"Oh,  say,  Dan,  don't  be  vindictive.  Take  me  along, 
won't  you?  I'll  promise  to  be  good— 'pon  honor  I  will. 
I'll  do  penance  for  any  depraved  suspicions  I  may  have 
indulged  in.  I'll — I'll  even  shake  hands  again  with 


THE  IMAGE-MAKER  47 

Black  Bow,  there !  Beyond  that,  I  can  think  of  no  more 
earnest  testimony  of  repentance." 

"I  shall  go  by  myself,"  decided  Overton.  "So  make 
a  note  of  it,  if  you  see  the  young  lady  before  to-morrow, 
it  will  be  because  she  specially  requests  it.  Understand? 
I'm  not  going  to  have  her  bothered  by  people  who  are 
only  curious ;  not  but  that  she  can  take  her  own  part,  as 
you'll  maybe  learn  later.  But  she  was  too  upset  to  talk 
much  last  night.  So  I'll  go  over  and  finish  this  morning, 
and  in  the  meantime,  this  side  of  the  river  is  plenty 
good  enough  for  you." 

"Is  it?"  murmured  Mr.  Lyster,  as  he  eyed  the  stal- 
wart form  of  the  retreating  guardian,  who  was  so  bent 
on  guarding.  "Well,  it  would  do  my  heart  good,  any- 
way, to  fasten  another  canoe  right  alongside  of  yours 
where  you  land  over  there,  and  I  shouldn't  be  surprised 
if  I  did  it." 

Thus  it  happened  that  while  Overton  was  skimming 
upward  across  the  river,  his  friend,  on  mischief  bent, 
was  getting  a  canoe  ready  to  launch.  A  few  minutes 
after  Overton  had  disappeared  toward  the  Indian  village, 
the  second  canoe  danced  lightly  over  the  Kootenai,  and 
the  occupant  laughed  to  himself,  as  he  anticipated  the 
guardian's  surprise. 

"Not  that  I  care  in  the  least  about  seeing  the  dismal 
damsel  he  has  to  look  after,"  mused  Lyster.  "In  fact, 
I'm  afraid  she'll  be  a  nuisance,  and  spoil  our  jolly  good 
time  all  the  way  home.  But  he  is  so  refreshingly  earnest 
about  everything.  And  as  he  doesn't  care  a  snap  for 
girls  in  general,  it  is  all  the  more  amusing  that  it 
is  he  who  should  have  a  charge  of  that  sort  left  on  his 
hands.  I'd  like  to  know  what  she  looks  like.  Common, 


48  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

I  dare  say,  for  the  ultra  refined  do  not  penetrate  these 
wilds  to  help  blaze  trails ;  and  she  swam  like  a  boy." 

When  he  reached  the  far  shore,  no  one  was  in  sight. 
With  satisfied  smiles,  he  fastened  his  canoe  to  that  of 
Overton,  and  then  cast  about  for  some  place  to  lie  in 
wait  for  that  selfish  personage  and  surprise  him  on  his 
return. 

He  had  no  notion  of  going  up  to  the  village,  for  he 
wanted  only  to  keep  close  enough  to  trace  Overton. 
Hearing  children's  voices  farther  along  the  shore,  he 
sauntered  that  way,  thinking  to  see  Indian  games,  per- 
haps. When  he  came  nearer,  he  saw  they  were  running 
races. 

The  contestants  were  running  turn  about,  two  at  a 
time.  Each  victory  was  greeted  with  shrill  cries  of 
triumph.  He  also  noticed  that  each  victor  returned  to  a 
figure  seated  close  under  some  drooping  bushes,  and 
each  time  a  hand  was  reached  out  and  some  little  prize 
was  given  to  the  winner.  Then,  with  shouts  of  rejoicing, 
a  new  race  was  planned. 

As  the  stranger  stood  back  of  the  thick  bushes,  watch- 
ing the  stretch  of  level  beach  and  the  half-naked,  childish 
figures,  he  grew  curious  to  see  who  that  one  person  just 
out  of  sight  was. 

One  thing  at  last  he  did  discover — that  the  hand 
awarding  the  prizes  was  tanned  like  the  hand  of  a  boy, 
but  that  it  certainly  had  white  blood  instead  of  red  in 
its  veins.  What  if  it  should  be  the  ward  ? 

Elated,  and  full  of  mischief,  he  crept  closer.  If  only 
he  could  be  able  to  give  Overton  a  description  of  her 
when  Overtoil  came  back  to  the  canoe ! 

At  first  all  he  could  see  were  the  hands — hands  play- 
ing with  a  bit  of  wet  clay — or  so  it  seemed  to  him. 


THE  IMAGE-MAKER  49 

Then  his  curiosity  was  more  fully  aroused  when  out 
of  the  mass  a  recognizable  form  was  apparent — a  crudely 
modeled  head  and  shoulders  of  a  decided  Indian  character. 

Lyster  was  so  close  now  that  he  could  notice  how  small 
the  hands  were,  and  to  see  that  the  head  bent  above  them 
was  covered  with  short,  brown,  loosely  curled  hair,  and 
that  there  was  just  a  tinge  of  reddish  gold  on  it,  where 
the  sunlight  fell. 

A  race  was  just  ended,  and  one  of  the  little  young 
savages  trotted  up  where  the  image-maker  was.  The 
small  hand  was  again  reached  out,  and  he  could  see  that 
the  prize  the  little  Indian  had  raced  for  was  a  blue  bead 
of  glass.  He  could  see,  also,  that  the  owner  of  the  hand 
had  the  face  of  a  girl — a  girl  with  dark  eyes,  and  long 
lashes  that  touched  the  rather  pale  cheeks.  Her  mouth 
was  deliciously  saucy,  with  its  bow-4ike  curve,  and  its 
clear  redness.  She  said  something  he  did  not  under- 
stand, and  the  children  scampered  away  to  resume  the 
endless  races,  while  she  continued  the  manipulation  of 
the  clay,  frowning  often  when  it  would  not  take  the  de- 
sired form. 

Then  one  of  the  sharp-eyed  little  redskins  left  his  com- 
panions and  slipped  back  to  her,  and  said  something  in 
a  tone  so  low  it  was  almost  a  whisper. 

She  turned  at  once  and  looked  directly  into  the  thicket, 
back  of  which  Lyster  stood. 

"What  are  you  watching  for?"  she  demanded.  "I 
don't  like  people  who  are  afraid  to  show  themselves." 

"Well,  I'll  try  to  change  that  as  quickly  as  I  can," 
Lyster  retorted,  and  circling  the  clump  of  bushes,  he 
stood  before  her  with  his  hat  in  his  hand,  looking  smil- 
ingly audacious  as  she  frowned  on  him. 

But  the  frown  faded  as  she  looked;  perhaps  because 


50  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

Tana  had  never  seen  any  one  quite  so  handsome  in  all 
her  life,  or  so  fittingly  and  picturesquely  dressed,  for 
Mr.  Maxwell  Lyster  was  artist  enough  to  make  the  most 
of  his  many  good  points  and  to  exhibit  them  all  with 
charming  unconsciousness. 

"I  hope  you  will  like  me  better  here  than  across 
there,"  he  said,  with  a  smile  that  was  contagious.  "You 
see,  I  was  too  shy  to  come  forward  at  first,  and  then  I 
was  afraid  to  interrupt  your  modeling.  It  is  very  good/* 

"You  don't  look  shy,"  she  said,  combatively,  and  drew 
the  clay  image  back,  where  he  could  not  look  at  it.  She 
was  not  at  all  sure  that  he  was  not  laughing  at  her, 
and  she  covered  her  worn  shoes  with  the  skirt  of  her 
dress,  feeling  suddenly  very  poor  and  shabby  in  the 
light  of  his  eyes.  She  had  not  felt  at  all  like  that  when 
Overton  looked  at  her  in  Akkomi's  lodge. 

"You  would  not  be  so  unfriendly  if  you  knew  who  I 
am,"  he  ventured  meekly.  "Of  course,  I — Max  Lyster 
— don't  amount  to  much,  but  I  happen  to  be  Dan  Over- 
ton's  friend,  and  with  your  permission,  I  hope  to  continue 
with  him  to  Sinna  Ferry,  and  with  you  as  well ;  for  I  am 
sure  you  must  be  Miss  Rivers." 

"If  you're  sure,  that  settles  it,  I  suppose,"  she  re- 
turned. "So  he — he  told  you  about  me?" 

"Oh,  yes;  we  are  chums,  as  you  will  learn.  Then  I 
was  so  fortunate  as  to  see  your  brave  swim  after  that 
child  yesterday.  You  don't  look  any  the  worse  for  it." 

"No,  I'm  not." 

"I  suppose,  now,  you  thought  that  little  dip  a  welcome 
break  in  the  monotony  of  camp-life,  while  you  were  wait- 
ing for  Dan." 

She  looked  at  him  in  a  quick,  questioning  way  he 
thought  odd. 


THE  IMAGE-MAKER  51 

"Oh — yes.  While  I  was  waiting  for — Dan,"  she  said 
in  a  queer  tone,  and  bent  her  head  over  the  clay  image. 

He  thought  her  very  interesting  with  her  boyish  air, 
her  brusqueness,  and  independence.  Yet,  despite  her 
savage  surroundings,  a  certain  amount  of  education  was 
visible  in  her  speech  and  manner,  and  her  face  had  no 
stamp  of  ignorance  on  it. 

The  young  Kootenais  silently  withdrew  from  their 
races,  and  gathered  watchfully  close  to  the  girl.  Their 
nearness  was  a  discomfiting  thing  to  Lyster,  for  it  was 
not  easy  to  carry  on  a  conversation  under  their  watchful 
eyes. 

"You  gave  them  prizes,  did  you  not  ?"  he  asked.  "How 
much  wealth  must  one  offer  to  get  them  to  run?" 

''Run  where?"  she  returned  carelessly,  though  quietly 
amused  at  the  scrutiny  of  the  little  redskins.  They  were 
especially  charmed  by  the  glitter  of  gold  mountings  on 
Mr.  Lyster's  watch-guard. 

"Oh,  run  races — run  anywhere,"  he  said. 

From  a  pocket  of  her  blouse  she  drew  forth  a  few  blue 
beads  that  yet  remained. 

"This  is  all  I  had  to  give  them,  and  they  run  just  as 
fast  for  one  of  these  as  they  would  for  a  pony." 

"Good  enough !  I'll  have  some  races  for  my  own  edi- 
fication and  comfort,"  and  he  drew  out  some  coins.  "Will 
you  run  for  this — run  far  over  there?" 

The  children  looked  at  the  girl.  She  nodded  her  head, 
said  a  word  or  two  unintelligible  to  him,  but  perfectly 
clear  to  them;  for,  with  sharp  looks  at  the  coins  and 
pleased  yells,  they  leaped  away  to  their  racing. 

"Now,  this  is  more  comfortable,"  he  said.  "May  I 
sit  down  here  ?  Thanks !  Now  would  you  mind  telling 
me  whose  likeness  it  is  you  are  making  in  the  clay  ?" 


52  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"I  guess  you  know  it's  nobody's  likeness,"  she  an- 
swered, and  again  thrust  it  back  out  of  sight,  her  face 
flushing  that  he  should  thus  make  a  jest  of  her  poor 
efforts.  "You've  seen  real  statues,  I  suppose,  and  know 
how  they  ought  to  be,  but  you  don't  need  to  look  for 
them  in  the  Purcell  Range." 

"But,  indeed,  I  am  in  earnest  about  your  modeling. 
Won't  you  believe  me?"  and  the  blue  eyes  looking  into 
her  own  were  so  appealing,  that  she  turned  away  her  head 
half  shyly,  and  a  pink  flush  crept  up  from  her  throat. 
Miss  Rivers  was  evidently  not  used  to  eyes  with  caress- 
ive  tendencies  and  they  disturbed  her,  for  all  her 
strangely  unchildlike  character. 

"Of  course,  your  work  is  only  in  the  rough,"  he  con- 
tinued ;  "but  it  is  not  at  all  bad,  and  has  real  Indian  fea- 
tures. And  if  you  have  had  no  teaching — " 

"Huh !"  and  she  looked  at  him  with  a  mirthless  smile. 
"Where'd  any  one  get  teaching  of  that  sort  along  the 
Columbia  River?  Of  course,  there  are  some  gentlemen 
— officers  and  such — about  the  reservations,  but  not  one 
but  would  only  laugh  at  such  a  big  girl  making  doll 
babies  out  of  mud.  No,  I  had  no  teaching  to  do  anything 
but  read,  and  I  did  read  some  in  a  book  about  a  sculptor, 
and  how  he  made  animals  and  people's  faces  out  of  clay. 
Then  I  tried." 

As  she  grew  communicative,  she  seemed  so  much  more 
what  she  really  was  in  years — a  child ;  and  he  noticed, 
with  satisfaction,  that  she  looked  at  him  more  frankly, 
while  the  suspicion  faded  almost  entirely  from  her  face. 

"And  are  you  going  to  develop  into  a  sculptor  under 
Overton's  guardianship?"  he  asked.  "You  see,  he  has 
told  me  of  his  good  luck." 


THE  IMAGE-MAKER  53 

She  made  a  queer  little  sound  between  a  laugh  and 
a  grunt. 

"I'll  bet  the  rest  of  the  blue  beads  he  didn't  call  it- 
good  luck,"  she  returned,  looking  at  him  keenly.  "Now, 
honest  Injun — did  he?" 

"Honest  Injun!  he  didn't  speak  of  it  as  either  good 
or  bad  luck ;  simply  as  a  matter  of  course,  that  at  your 
father's  death  you  should  look  him  up,  and  let  him  know 
you  were  alone.  Oh,  he  is  a  good  fellow,  Dan  is,  and 
glad,  I  am  sure,  to  be  of  use  to  you." 

Her  lips  opened  in  a  little  sigh  of  content,  and  a  swift, 
radiant  smile  was  given  him. 

"I'm  right  glad  you  say  that  about  him,"  she  answered, 
"and  I  guess  you  know  him  well,  too.  Akkomi  likes  him, 
and  Akkomi's  sharp." 

The  winner  of  the  race  here  trotted  back  for  the  coin, 
and  Lyster  showed  another  one,  as  an  incentive  for  all 
to  scatter  along  the  beach  again.  It  looked  as  though 
the  two  white  people  must  pay  for  the  grant  of  privacy 
on  the  river-bank. 

Having  grown  more  at  ease  with  him,  'Tana  resumed 
again  the  patting  and  pressing  of  the  clay,  using  only 
a  little  pointed  stick,  while  Lyster  watched,  with  curi- 
osity, the  ingenious  way  in  which  she  seemed  to  feel 
her  way  to  form. 

"Have  you  ever  tried  to  draw  ?"  he  asked. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"Only  to  copy  pictures,  like  I've  seen  in  some  papers, 
but  they  never  looked  right.  But  I  want  to  do  every- 
thing like  that — to  make  pictures,  and  statues,  and  music, 
and — oh,  all  the  lovely  things  there  are  somewhere,  that 
I've  never  seen — never  will  see  them,  I  suppose.  Some- 
times, when  I  get  to  thinking  that  I  never  will  see  them, 


54  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

I  just  get  as  ugly  as  a  drunken  man,  and  I  don't  care 
if  I  never  do  see  anything  but  Indians  again.  I  get  so 
awful  reckless.  Say !"  she  said,  again  with  that  hard, 
short  laugh,  "girls  back  your  way  don't  get  wild  like  that, 
do  they?  They  don't  talk  my  way  either,  I  guess." 

"Maybe  not,  and  few  of  them  would  be  able,  either, 
to  do  what  we  saw  you  do  in  this  river  yesterday,"  he 
said  kindly.  "Dan  is  a  judge  of  such  things,  you  know, 
and  he  thought  you  very  nervy." 

"Nervy?  Oh,  yes;  I  guess  he'd  be  nervy  himself  if 
he  was  needed.  Say !  can  you  tell  me  about  the  camp, 
or  settlement,  at  this  Sinna  Ferry?  I  never  was  there. 
He  says  white  women  are  there.  Do  you  know  them?" 

Lyster  explained  his  own  ignorance  of  the  place, 
knowing  it  as  he  did  only  through  Dan's  descriptions. 

Then  she,  from  her  bit  of  Indian  knowledge,  told  him 
Sinna  was  the  old  north  Indian  name  for  Beaver.  Then 
he  got  her  to  tell  him  other  things  of  the  Indian  country, 
things  of  ghost-haunted  places  and  strange  witcheries, 
with  which  they  confused  the  game  and  the  fish.  He 
fell  to  wondering  what  manner  of  man  Rivers,  the  part- 
ner of  Dan,  had  been,  that  his  daughter  had  gained  such 
strange  knowledge  of  the  wild  things.  But  any  attempt 
to  learn  or  question  her  history  beyond  yesterday  was 
always  checked  in  some  way  or  other. 


DAN'S  WARD  55 


CHAPTER  IV. 

DAN'S  WARD. 

Mr.  Max  Lyster  was  not  given  to  the  study  of  deep 
problems ;  his  habits  of  thought  did  not  run  in  that  groove. 
But  he  did  watch  the  young  stranger  with  unusual  in- 
terest. Her  face  puzzled  him  as  much  as  her  presence 
there. 

"I  feel  as  though  I 'had  seen  you  before,"  he  said  at 
last,  and  her  face  grew  a  shade  paler.  She  did  not  look 
up,  and  when  she  spoke,  it  was  very  curtly: 

"Where?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know — in  fact,  I  believe  it  is  a  resem- 
blance to  some  one  I  know  that  makes  me  feel  that  way." 

"I  look  like  some  one  you  know?" 

"Well,  yes,  you  do — a  little — a  lady  who  is  a  little 
older  than  you — a  little  more  of  a  brunette  than  you; 
yet  there  is  a  likeness." 

"Where  does  she  live — and  what  is  her  name?"  she 
asked,  with  scant  ceremony. 

"I  don't  suppose  her  name  would  tell  you  much,"  he, 
answered.  "But  it  is  Miss  Margaret  Haydon,  of  Phil- 
adelphia." 

"Miss  Margaret  Haydon,"  she  said  slowly,  almost  con- 
temptuously. "So  you  know  her?" 

"You  speak  as  though  you  did,"  he  answered;  "and 
as  if  you  did  not  like  the  name,  either/' 

"But  you  think  it's  pretty,"  she  said,  looking  at  him 
sharply.  "No,  I  don't  know  such  swells — don't  want  to." 


56  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"How  do  you  know  she  is  a  swell?" 

"Oh,  there's  a  man  owns  big  works  across  the  country, 
and  that's  his  name.  I  suppose  they  are  all  of  a  lot,'* 
she  said,  indifferently.  "Say!  are  there  any  girls  at 
Sinna  Ferry,  any  family  folks?  Dan  didn't  tell  me — 
only  said  there  was  a  white  woman  there,  and  I  could 
live  with  her.  He  hasn't  a  wife,  has  he  ?" 

"Dan?"  and  he  laughed  at  the  idea,  "well,  no.  He  is 
very  kind  to  women,  but  I  can't  imagine  the  sort  of 
woman  he  would  marry.  He  is  a  queer  fish,  you  know." 

"I  guess  you'll  think  we're  all  that  up  in  this  wild 
country,"  she  observed.  "Does  he  know  much  about 
books  and  such  things?" 

"Such  things?" 

"Oh,  you  know !  things  of  the  life  in  the  cities,  where 
there's  music  and  theaters.  I  love  the  theaters  and  pic- 
tures !  and — and — well,  everything  like  that." 

Lyster  watched  her  brightening  face,  and  appreciated 
all  the  longing  in  it  for  the  things  he  liked  well  himself. 
And  she  loved  the  theaters!  All  his  own  boyish  en- 
thusiasm of  years  ago  crowded  into  his  memory,  as  he 
looked  at  her. 

"You  have  seen  plays,  then?"  he  asked,  and  won- 
dered where  she  had  seen  them  along  that  British  Co- 
lumbia line. 

"Seen  plays!  Yes,  in  'Frisco,  and  Portland,  and  Vic- 
toria— big,  real  theaters,  you  know;  and  then  others  in 
the  big  mining  camps.  Oh,  I  just  dream  over  plays, 
when  I  do  see  them,  specially  when  the  actresses  are 
pretty.  But  I  mostly  like  the  villains  better  than  the 
heroes.  Don't  know  why,  but  I  do." 

"What!    you  like  to  see  their  wickedness  prosper?" 

"No— I  think  not,"  she  said,  doubtfully.     "But  I  tell 


DAN'S  WARD  5T 

you,  the  heroes  are  generally  just  too  good  to  be  live 
men,  that's  all.  And  the  villain  mostly  talks  more  nat- 
ural, gets  mad,  you  know,  and  breaks  things,  and  rides 
over  the  lay-out  as  though  he  had  some  nerve  in  him. 
Of  course,  they  always  make  him  throw  up  his  hands  in 
the  end,  and  every  man  in  the  audience  applauds — even 
the  ones  who  would  act  just  as  he  does  if  such  a  pretty 
hero  was  in  their  way." 

"Well,  you  certainly  have  peculiar  ideas  of  theatrical 
personages — for  a  young  lady,"  decided  Lyster,  laugh- 
ing. "And  why  you  have  a  grievance  against  the  ortho- 
dox handsome  hero,  I  can't  see." 

"He's  too  good,"  she  insisted,  with  the  little  frown 
appearing  between  her  brows,  "and  no  one  is  ever  started 
in  the  play  with  a  fair  chance  against  him.  He  is  al- 
ways called  Willie,  where  the  villain  would  be  called 
Bill — now,  isn't  he?  Then  the  girl  in  the  story  always 
falls  in  love  with  him  at  first  sight,  and  that's  enough  to 
rile  any  villain,  especially  when  he  wants  her  himself." 

"Oh !"  and  the  face  of  the  young  man  was  a  study,  as 
he  inspected  this  wonderful  ward  of  Dan.  Whatever 
he  had  expected  from  the  young  swimmer  of  the  Koote- 
nai,  from  the  welcomed  guest  of  Akkomi,  he  had  not 
expected  this  sort  of  thing. 

She  was  twisting  her  pretty  mouth,  with  a  schoolgirl's 
earnestness,  over  a  problem,  and  accenting  thus  her 
patient  forming  of  the  clay  face.  She  built  no  barriers 
up  between  herself  and  this  handsome  stranger,  as  she 
had  in  the  beginning  with  Overton.  What  she  had  to  say 
was  uttered  with  all  freedom — her  likes,  her  thoughts, 
her  ambitions.  At  first  the  fineness  and  perfection  of  his 
apparel  had  been  as  grandeur  and  insolence  when  con- 
trasted with  her  own  weather-stained,  coarse  skirt  of 


58  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

wool,  and  her  boy's  blouse  belted  with  a  strap  of  leather. 
Even  the  blue  beads — her  one  feminine  bit  of  adornment 
— had  been  stripped  from  her  throat,  that  she  might  give 
some  pleasure  to  the  little  bronze-tinted  runners  on  the 
shore.  But  the  gently  modulated,  sympathetic  tones  of 
Lyster  and  the  kindly  fellowship  in  his  eyes,  when  he 
looked  at  her,  almost  made  her  forget  her  own  shab- 
biness  (all  but  those  hideous  coarse  shoes!)  for  he  talked 
to  her  with  the  grace  of  the  people  in  the  plays  she  loved 
so,  and  had  not  once  spoken  as  though  to  a  stray  found 
in  the  shelter  of  an  Indian  camp. 

But  he  did  look  curious  when  she  expressed  those  in- 
dependent ideas  on  questions  over  which  most  girls 
would  blush  or  appear  at  least  a  little  conscious. 

"So,  you  would  put  a  veto  on  love  at  first  sight,  would 
you?"  he  asked,  laughingly.  "And  the  beauty  of  the 
hero  would  not  move  you  at  all  ?  What  a  very  odd  young 
lady  you  would  have  me  think  you!  I  believe  love  at 
first  sight  is  generally  considered,  by  your  age  and  sex, 
the  pinnacle  of  all  things  hoped  for." 

A  little  color  did  creep  into  her  face  at  the  unnecessary 
personal  construction  put  on  her  words.  She  frowned 
to  hide  her  embarrassment  and  thrust  out  her  lips  in  a 
manner  that  showed  she  had  little  vanity  as  to  her  features 
and  their  attractiveness. 

"But  I  don't  happen  to  be  a  young  lady,"  she  retorted ; 
"and  we  think  as  we  please  up  here  in  the  bush.  Maybe 
your  proper  young  ladies  would  be  very  odd,  too,  if 
they  were  brought  up  out  here  like  boys." 

She  arose  to  her  feet,  and  he  saw  more  clearly  then 
how  slight  she  was;  her  form  and  face  were  much  more 
childish  in  character  than  her  speech,  and  the  face  was 
looking  at  him  with  resentful  eyes. 


DAN'S  WARD  59 

"I'm  going  back  to  camp." 

"Now,  I've  offended  you,  haven't  I?"  he  asked,  in  sur- 
prise. "Really,  I  did  not  mean  to.  Won't  you  forgive 
me?" 

She  dug  her  heel  in  the  sand  and  did  not  answer ;  but 
the  fact  that  she  remained  at  all  assured  him  she  would 
relent.  He  was  amused  at  her  quick  show  of  temper. 
Wrhat  a  prospect  for  Dan ! 

"I  scarcely  know  what  I  said  to  vex  you,"  he  began; 
but  she  flashed  a  sullen  look  at  him. 

"You  think  I'm  odd — and — and  a  nobody;  just  be- 
cause I  ain't  like  fine  young  ladies  you  know  some- 
wheres — like  Miss  Margaret  Haydon,"  and  she  dug  the 
sand  away  with  vicious  little  kicks.  "Nice  ladies  with 
kid  slippers  on,"  she  added,  derisively,  "the  sort  that  al- 
ways falls  in  love  with  the  pretty  man,  the  hero.  Huh ! 
I've  seen  some  men  who  were  heroes — real  ones — and 
I  never  saw  a  pretty  one  yet." 

As  she  said  it,  she  looked  very  straight  into  the  very 
handsome  face  of  Mr.  Lyster. 

"A  young  Tartar!"  he  decided,  mentally,  while  he 
actually  colored  at  the  directness  of  her  gaze  and  her 
sweepingly  contemptuous  opinion  of  "pretty  men." 

"I  see  I'd  better  vacate  your  premises  since  you  appear 
unwilling  to  forgive  me  even  my  unintentional  faults," 
he  decided,  meekly.  "I'm  very  sorry,  I'm  sure,  and  hope 
you  will  bear  no  malice.  Of  course  I — nobody  would 
want  you  to  be  different  from  what  you  are ;  so  you 
must  not  think  I  meant  that.  I  had  hoped  you  would  let 
me  buy  that  clay  bust  as  a  memento  of  this  morning, 
but  I'm  afraid  to  ask  favors  now.  I  can  only  hope  that 
you  will  speak  to  me  again  to-morrow.  Until  then,  good- 
by." 


60  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

She  raised  her  eyes  sullenly  at  first,  but  they  dropped, 
ashamed,  before  the  kindness  of  his  own.  She  felt 
coarse  and  clumsy,  and  wished  she  had  not  been  so 
quick  to  quarrel.  And  he  was  turning  away!  Maybe 
he  would  never  speak  nicely  to  her  again,  and  she  loved 
to  hear  him  speak. 

Then  her  hand  was  thrust  out  to  him,  and  in  it  was 
the  little  clay  model. 

"You  can  have  it.  I'll  give  it  to  you,"  she  said,  quite 
humbly.  "It  ain't  very  pretty,  but  if  you  like  it — " 

Thus  ended  the  first  of  many  differences  between 
Dan's  ward  and  Dan's  friend. 

When  Daniel  Overton  himself  came  stalking  down 
among  the  Indian  children,  looking  right  and  left  from 
tinder  his  great  slouch  hat,  he  halted  suddenly,  and  with 
his  lips  closed  somewhat  grimly,  stood  there  watching 
the  rather  pretty  picture  before  him. 

But  the  prettiness  of  it  did  not  seem  to  appeal  to  him 
strongly.  He  looked  on  the  girl's  half  smiling,  drooped 
face,  on  Lyster,  who  held  the  model  and  his  hat  in  one 
hand  and,  with  his  handsome  blonde  head  bared,  held  out 
his  other  hand  to  her,  saying  something  in  those  low, 
deferential  tones  Dan  knew  so  well. 

Her  hand  was  given  after  a  little  hesitation.  When 
they  beheld  Dan  so  near  them,  the  hands  were  un- 
clasped and  each  looked  confused. 

Mr.  Lyster  was  the  first  to  recover,  and  adjusting  his 
head  covering  once  more,  he  held  up  the  clay  model  to 
view. 

"Thought  you'd  be  around  before  long,"  he  remarked, 
with  a  provoking  gleam  in  his  eyes.  "I  really  had  no 
hope  of  meeting  Miss  Rivers  before  you  this  morning; 
but  fortune  favors  the  brave,  you  know,  and  fortune  sent 


DAN'S  WARD  61 

me  right  along  these  sands  for  my  morning  walk — a 
most  indulgent  fortune,  for,  look  at  this !  Did  you  know 
your  ward  is  an  embryo  sculptress?" 

The  older  man  looked  indifferently  enough  at  the  ex- 
alted bit  of  clay. 

"I  leave  discoveries  of  that  sort  to  you.  They  seem 
to  run  in  your  line  more  than  mine,"  he  answered,  briefly. 
Then  he  turned  to  the  girl.  "Akkomi  told  me  you  were 
here  with  the  children,  'Tana.  If  you  had  other  com- 
pany, Akkomi  would  have  made  him  welcome." 

He  did  not  speak  unkindly,  yet  she  felt  that  in  some 
way  he  was  not  pleased ;  and  perhaps — perhaps  he  would 
change  his  mind  and  leave  her  where  he  found  her! 
And  if  so,  she  might  never  see — either  of  their  faces 
again!  As  the  thought  came  to  her,  she  looked  up  at 
Dan  in  a  startled  way,  and  half  put  out  her  hand. 

"I — I  did  not  know.  I  don't  like  the  lodges.  It  is 
better  here  by  the  river.  It  is  your  friend  that  came, 
and  I—" 

"Certainly.  You  need  not  explain.  And  as  you  seem 
to  know  each  other,  I  need  not  do  any  introducing,"  he 
answered,  as  she  seemed  to  grow  confused.  "But  I  have 
a  little  time  to  talk  to  you  this  morning  and  so  came 
early." 

"Which  means  that  I  can  set  sail  for  the  far  shore," 
added  Lyster,  amiably.  "All  right;  I'm  gone.  Good- 
by  till  to-morrow,  Miss  Rivers.  I'm  grateful  for  the  clay 
Indian,  and  more  grateful  that  you  have  agreed  to  be 
friends  with  me  again.  Will  you  believe,  Dan,  that 
in  our  short  acquaintance  of  half  an  hour,  we  have  had 
time  for  one  quarrel  and  'make  up'?  It  is  true.  And 
now  that  she  is  disposed  to  accept  me  as  a  traveling  com- 

5 


62  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

panion,  don't  you  spoil  it  by  giving  me  a  bad  name  when 
my  back  is  turned.     I'll  wait  at  the  canoes." 

With  a  wave  of  his  hat,  he  passed  out  of  sight  around 
the  clump  of  bushes,  and  down  along  the  shore,  singing 
cheerily,  and  the  words  floated  back  to  them: 

"Come,  love!  come,  love! 

My  boat  lies  low; 
She  lies  high  and  dry 
On  the  Ohio." 

Overton  stood  looking  at  the  girl  for  a  little  time  after 
Lyster  disappeared.  His  eyes  were  very  steady  and 
searching,  as  though  he  began  to  realize  the  care  a  ward 
might  be,  especially  when  the  antecedents  and  past  life 
of  the  ward  were  so  much  of  stubborn  mystery  to  him. 

"I  wonder,"  he  said,  at  last,  "if  there  is  any  chance  of 
your  being  my  friend,  too,  in  so  short  a  time  as  a  half- 
hour?  Oh,  well,  never  mind,"  he  added,  as  he  saw  the 
red  mouth  tremble,  and  tears  show  in  her  eyes  as  she 
looked  at  him.  "Only  don't  commence  by  disliking, 
that's  all;  for  unfriendliness  is  a  bad  thing  in  a  house- 
hold, let  alone  in  a  canoe,  and  I  can  be  of  more  down- 
right use  to  you,  if  you  give  me  all  the  confidence  you 
can." 

"I  know  what  you  mean — that  I  must  tell  you  about 
— about  how  I  came  here,  and  all;  but  I  won't!"  she 
burst  out.  "I'll  die  here  before  I  do !  I  hated  the  people 
they  said  were  my  people.  I  was  glad  when  they  were 
dead — glad — glad!  Oh,  you'll  say  it's  wicked  to  think 
that  way  about  relatives.  Maybe  it  is,  but  it's  natural 
if  they've  always  been  wicked  to  you.  I'll  go  to  the 
bad  place,  I  reckon,  for  feeling  this  way,  and  I'll  just 
have  to  go,  for  I  can't  feel  any  other  way." 


DAN'S  WARD  63 

"  'Tana — 'Tana!"  and  his  hand  fell  on  her  shoulder, 
as  though  to  shake  her  away  from  so  wild  a  mood.  "You 
are  only  a  girl  yet.  When  you  are  older,  you  will  be 
ashamed  to  say  you  ever  hated  your  parents — whoever 
they  were — your  mother !" 

"I  ain't  saying  anything  about  her,"  she  answered 
bitterly.  "She  died  before  I  can  mind.  I've  been  told 
she  was  a  lady.  But  I  won't  ever  use  the  name  again 
she  used.  I — I  want  to  start  square  with  the  world,  if 
I  leave  these  Indians,  and  I  can't  do  it  unless  I  change 
my  name  and  try  to  forget  the  old  one.  It  has  a  curse  on 
it— it  has." 

She  was  trembling  with  nervousness,  and  her  eyes, 
though  tearless,  were  stormy  and  rebellious. 

"You'll  think  I'm  bad,  because  I  talk  this  way,"  she 
continued,  "but  I  ain't — I  ain't.  I've  fought  when  I  had 
to,  and — and  I'd  swear — sometimes;  but  that's  all  the 
bad  I  ever  did  do.  I  won't  any  more  if  you  take  me  with 
you.  I — I  can  cook  and  keep  house  for  you,  if  you  hain't 
got  folks  of  your  own,  and — I  do  want  to  go  with  you." 

"Come,  love!     come! 

Won't  you  go  along  with  me? 
And  I'll  take  you  back 

To  old  Tennessee!" 

The  words  of  the  handsome  singer  came  clearly  back 
to  them.  Overton,  about  to  speak,  heard  the  words  of 
the  song,  and  a  little  smile,  half-bitter,  half-sad,  touched 
his  lips  as  he  looked  at  her. 

"I  see,"  he  said,  quietly,  "you  care  more  about  going 
to-day,  than  you  did  when  I  talked  to  you  last  night. 
Well,  that's  all  right.  And  I  reckon  you  can  make 
coffee  for  me  as  long  as  you  like.  That  mayn't  be  long, 


64:  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

though,  for  some  of  the  young  fellows  will  be  wanting 
you  to  keep  house  for  them  before  many  years,  and  you'll 
naturally  do  it.  How  old  are  you  ?" 

"I'm — past  sixteen,"  she  said,  in  a  deprecating  way, 
as  though  ashamed  of  her  years  and  her  helplessness. 
"I'm  old  enough  to  work,  and  I  will  work  if  I  get  where 
it's  any  use  trying.  But  I  won't  keep  house  for  any  one 
but  you." 

"Won't  you?"  he  asked,  doubtfully.  "Well,  I've  an 
idea  you  may.  But  we'll  talk  about  that  when  the  time 
comes.  This  morning  I  wanted  to  talk  of  something 
else  before  we  start — you  and  Max  and  I — down  into 
Idaho.  I'm  not  asking  the  name  of  the  man  you  hate 
so;  but  if  I  am  to  acknowledge  him  as  an  old  acquaint- 
ance of  mine,  you  had  better  tell  me  what  business  he 
was  in.  You  see,  it  might  save  complications  if  any 
one  should  run  across  us  some  day  and  know." 

"No  one  will  know  me,"  she  said,  decidedly.  "If  I 
didn't  know  that,  I'd  stay  right  here,  I  think.  And  as 
to  him,  my  fond  parent,"  and  she  made  a  grimace — "I 
guess  you  can  call  him  a  prospector  and  speculator — 
either  of  those  would  be  correct.  I  think  they  called  him 
Jim,  when  he  was  christened." 

"Akkomi  said  last  night  you  had  been  on  the  trail 
hunting  for  some  one.  Was  it  a  friend,  or — or  any  one 
I  could  help  you  look  for  ?" 

"No,  it  wasn't  a  friend,  and  I'm  done  with  the  search 
and  glad  of  it.  Did  you,"  she  added,  looking  at  him 
darkly,  "ever  put  in  time  hunting  for  any  one  you  didn't 
want  to  find?" 

Without  knowing  it,  Miss  Rivers  must  have  tottched 
on  a  subject  rather  sensitive  to  her  guardian,  for  his 


DAN'S  WARD  6£ 

face  flushed,  and  he  gazed  at  her  with  a  curious  expres- 
sion in  his  eyes. 

"Maybe  I  have,  little  girl,"  he  said  at  last.  "I  reckon 
I  know  how  to  let  your  troubles  alone,  anyway,  if  I 
can't  help  them.  But  I  must  tell  you,  Max — Max  Lyster, 
you  know — will  be  the  only  one  very  curious  about  your 
presence  here — as  to  the  route  you  came,  etc.  You  had 
better  be  prepared  for  that." 

"It  won't  be  very  hard,"  she  answered,  "for  I  came 
over  from  Sproats'  Landing,  up  to  Karlo,  and  back  down 
here." 

"Over  from  Sproats — you?"  he  asked,  looking  at  her 
nervously.  "I  heard  nothing  of  a  white  girl  making  that 
trip.  When,  and  how  did  you  do  it?" 

"Two  weeks  ago,  and  on  foot,"  was  the  laconic  reply. 
"As  I  had  only  a  paper  of  salt  and  some  matches,  I 
couldn't  afford  to  travel  in  high  style,  so  I  footed  it.  I 
had  a  ring  and  a  blanket,  and  I  traded  them  up  at  Karla 
for  an  old  tub  of  a  dugout,  and  got  here  in  that." 

"You  had  some  one  with  you?" 

"I  was  alone." 

Overton  looked  at  her  with  more  of  amazement  than 
she  had  yet  inspired  in  him.  He  thought  of  that  in- 
describably wild  portage  trail  from  the  Columbia  to  the 
Kootenai.  When  men  crossed  it,  they  preferred  to  go 
in  company,  and  this  slip  of  a  girl  had  dared  its  lone- 
liness, its  dangers  alone.  He  thought  of  the  stories  of 
death,  by  which  the  trail  was  haunted;  of  prospectors 
who  had  verged  from  that  dim  path  and  had  been  lost 
in  the  wilderness,  where  their  bones  were  found  by  In- 
dians or  white  hunters  long  after;  of  strange  stories  of 
wild  beasts;  of  all  the  weird  sounds  of  the  jungles;  of 
places  where  a  misstep  would  send  one  lifeless  to  the 


66  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

jagged  feet  of  huge  precipices.  And  through  that  trail 
of  terror  she  had  walked — alone ! 

"I  have  nothing  more  to  ask,"  he  said  briefly.  "But 
it  is  not  necessary  to  tell  any  of  the  white  people  you 
meet  that  you  made  the  trip  alone." 

"I  know,"  she  said,  humbly,  "they'd  think  it  either 
wasn't  true — or — or  else  that  it  oughtn't  to  be  true.  I 
know  how  they'd  look  at  me  and  whisper  things.  But 
if — if  you  believe  me — " 

She  paused  uncertainly,  and  looked  up  at  him.  All 
the  rebellion  and  passion  had  faded  out  of  her  eyes  now ; 
they  were  only  appealing.  What  a  wild,  changeable 
creature  she  was  with  those  quick  contrasts  of  temper ! 
wild  as  the  name  she  bore — Montana — the  mountains. 
Something  like  that  thought  came  into  his  mind  as  he 
looked  at  her. 

He  had  gathered  other  wild  things  from  his  trips  into 
the  wilderness ;  young  bears  with  which  to  enliven  camp 
life;  young  fawns  that  he  had  loved  and  cared  for,  be- 
cause of  the  beauty  of  eyes  and  form;  even  a  pair  of 
kittens  had  been  carried  by  him  across  into  the  States, 
and  developed  into  healthy,  marauding  panthers.  One  of 
these  had  set  its  teeth  through  the  flesh  of  his  hand 
one  day  ere  he  could  conquer  and  kill  it,  and  his  fawns, 
cubs  and  smaller  pets  had  drifted  from  him  back  to  their 
forests,  or  else  into  the  charge  of  some  other  prospector 
who  had  won  their  affections. 

He  remembered  them,  and  the  remembrance  lent  a 
curious  character  to  the  smile  in  his  eyes,  as  he  held 
out  his  hand  to  her. 

"I  do  believe  you,  for  it  is  only  cowards  who  tell  lies ; 
and  I  don't  believe  you'd  make  a  good  coward — would 
you?" 


DAN'S  WARD  67 

She  did  not  answer,  but  her  face  flushed  with  pleasure, 
and  she  looked  up  at  him  gratefully.  He  seemed  to  like 
that  better  than  words. 

"Akkomi  called  you  'Girl-not-Afraid,'  "  he  continued. 
"And  if  I  were  a  redskin,  too,  I  would  look  up  an  eagle 
feather  for  you  to  wear  in  your  hair.  I  reckon  you've 
heard  that  only  the  braves  dare  wear  eagle  feathers." 

"I  know,  but  I—" 

"But  you  have  earned  them  by  your  own  confession," 
he  said,  kindly,  "and  some  day  I  may  run  across  them 
for  you.  In  the  meantime,  I  have  only  this." 

He  held  out  a  beaded  belt  of  Indian  manufacture,  a 
pretty  thing,  and  she  opened  her  eyes  in  glad  surprise, 
as  he  offered  it  to  her. 

"For  me?    Oh,  Dan!— Mr.  Overton— I— " 

She  paused,  confused  at  having  called  him  as  the  In- 
dians called  him;  but  he  smiled  understandingly. 

"We'll  settle  that  name  business  right  here,"  he  sug- 
gested. "You  call  me  Dan,  if  it  comes  easier  to  you. 
Just  as  I  call  you  'Tana.  I  don't  know  'Mr.  Overton' 
very  well  myself  in  this  country,  and  you  needn't  trouble 
yourself  to  remember  him.  Dan  is  shorter.  If  I  had  a 
sister,  she'd  call  me  Dan,  I  suppose ;  so  I  give  you  license 
to  do  so.  As  to  the  belt,  I  got  it,  with  some  other  plun- 
der, from  some  Columbia  River  reds,  and  you  use  it. 
There  is  some  other  stuff  in  Akkomi's  tepee  you'd  better 
put  on,  too;  it's  new  stuff — a  whole  dress — and  I  think 
the  moccasins  will  about  fit  you.  I  brought  over  two 
pairs,  to  make  sure.  Now,  don't  get  any  independent 
notions  in  your  head,"  he  advised,  as  she  looked  at  him 
as  though  about  to  protest.  "If  you  go  to  the  States  as 
my  ward,  you  must  let  me  take  the  management  of  the 
outfit.  I  got  the  dress  for  an  army  friend  of  mine,  who 


68  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

wanted  it  for  his  daughter;  but  I  guess  it  will  about  fit 
you,  and  she  will  have  to  wait  until  next  trip.  Now,  as 
I've  settled  our  business,  I'll  be  getting  back  across  the 
river,  so  until  to-morrow,  klahowya" 

She  stood,  awkward  and  embarrassed,  before  him.  No 
words  would  come  to  her  lips  to  thank  him.  She  had 
felt  desolate  and  friendless  for  so  long,  and  now  when 
his  kindness  was  so  great,  she  felt  as  if  she  should  cry 
if  she  spoke  at  all.  Just  as  she  had  cried  the  night  be< 
fore  at  his  compassionate  tones  and  touch. 

Suddenly  she  bent  forward  for  the  belt,  and  witfi 
some  muttered  words  he  could  not  distinguish,  she 
grasped  his  big  hand  in  her  little  brown  ringers, ,  and 
touching  it  with  her  lips,  twice — thrice — turned  and  ran 
away  as  swiftly  as  the  little  Indians  who  had  run  on  the 
shore. 

The  warm  color  flushed  all  over  Dan's  face,  as  he 
looked  after  her.  Of  course,  she  was  only  a  little  girl, 
but  he  was  devoutly  glad  Max  was  not  in  sight.  Max 
would  not  have  understood  aright.  Then  his  eyes  trav- 
eled back  to  his  hand,  where  her  mouth  had  touched  it. 
Her  kiss  had  fallen  where  the  scar  of  the  panther's  teeth 
was. 

And  this,  also,  was  a  wild  thing  he  was  taking  from 
the  forests! 


AT  SINNA  FERRY 


CHAPTER  V. 

AT   SINNA   FERRY. 

"It  has  been  young  wolves,  an'  bears,  an*  other  vicious 
pets — every  formed  thing,  but  snakes  or  redskins,  and 
at  last  it's  that !" 

"Tush,  tush,  captain!  Now,  it's  not  so  bad.  Why,  I 
declare,  now,  I  was  kind  of  pleased  when  I  got  sight  of 
her.  She's  white,  anyway,  and  she's  right  smart." 

"Smart !"  The  captain  sniffed,  dubiously.  "We'll  get 
a  chance  to  see  about  that  later  on,  Mrs.  Huzzard.  But 
it's  like  your — hem!  tender  heart  to  have  a  good  word 
for  all  comers,  and  this  is  only  another  proof  of  it." 

"Pshaw !  Now,  you're  making  game,  I  guess.  That's 
what  you're  up  to,  captain,"  and  Mrs.  Huzzard  attempted 
a  chaste  blush  and  smile,  and  succeeded  in  a  smirk.  "I'm 
sure,  now,  that  to  hem  a  few  neckties  an'  sich  like  for 
you  is  no  good  reason  for  thinking  I'm  doing  the  same 
for  every  one  that  comes  around.  No,  indeed ;  my  heart 
ain't  so  tender  as  all  that." 

The  captain,  from  under  his  sandy  brows,  looked  with 
a  certain  air  of  satisfaction  at  the  well  rounded  person- 
ality of  Mrs.  Huzzard.  His  vanity  was  gently  pleased — 
she  was  a  fine  woman ! 

"Well,  I  mightn't  like  it  so  well  myself  if  I  thought 
you'd  do  as  much  for  any  man,"  he  acknowledged. 
"There's  too  many  men  at  the  Ferry  who  ain't  fit  even 
to  eat  one  of  the  pies  you  make." 


70  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

Mrs.  Huzzard  was  fluting  the  edge  of  a  pie  at  that 
moment,  and  looked  across  the  table  at  the  captain,  with 
arch  meaning. 

"Maybe  so ;  but  there's  a  right  smart  lot  of  fine-looking 
fellows  among  them,  too;  there's  no  getting  around 
that." 

The  unintelligible  mutter  of  disdain  that  greeted  her 
words  seemed  to  bring  a  certain  comfort  to  her  wid- 
owed heart,  for  she  smiled  brightly  and  flipped  the  com- 
pleted pie  aside,  with  an  airy  grace. 

"Now — now,  Captain  Leek,  you  can't  be  expecting 
common  grubbers  of  men  to  have  all  the  advantages  of 
manners  that  you've  got.  No,  sir;  you  can't.  They 
hain't  had  the  bringing  up.  They  hain't  had  the  school- 
ing, and  they  hain't  had  the  soldier  drills  to  teach  them  to 
carry  themselves  like  gentlemen.  Now,  you've  had  all 
that,  and  it's  a  sight  of  profit  to  you.  But  don't  be  too 
hard  on  the  folks  that  ain't  jest  so  finished  like  as  you. 
There's  that  new  Rivers  girl,  now — she  ain't  a  bad  sort, 
though  it  is  queer  to  see  your  boy  Dan  toting  such  a 
stranger  into  camp,  for  he  never  did  seem  to  take  to  girls 
much — did  he?" 

"It's  not  so  easy  to  tell  what  he's  taken  to  in  his  time," 
returned  the  captain,  darkly.  "You  know  he  isn't  my 
own  boy,  as  I  told  you  before.  He  was  eight  years  old 
when  I  married  his  mother,  and  after  her  death  he  took 
the  bit  in  his  own  teeth,  and  left  home.  No  great  grief 
to  me,  for  he  wasn't  a  tender  boy  to  manage!"  And 
Captain  Leek  heaved  a  sigh  for  the  martyrdom  he  had 
lived  through. 

"Oh,  well,  but  see  what  a  fine  man  he's  turned  out,  and 
I'm  sure  no  own  son  could  be  better  to  you,"  for  Mrs. 
Huzzard  was  one  of  the  large,  comfortable  bodies,  who 


AT  SINNA  FERRY  71 

never  see  any  but  the  brightest  side  of  affairs,  and  a  good 
deal  of  a  peacemaker  in  the  little  circle  where  she  had 
taken  up  her  abode.  "Indeed,  now,  captain,  you'll  not 
meet  many  such  fine  fellows  in  a  day's  tramp." 

"If  she'd  even  been  a  real  Indian,"  he  continued,  dis- 
contentedly, "it  would  have  been  easier  to  manage  her — 
to — to  put  her  in  some  position  where  she  could  earn 
her  own  living;  for  by  Dan's  words  (few  enough,  too!) 
I  gather  that  she  has  no  money  back  of  her.  She'll  be  a 
dead  weight  on  his  hands,  that's  what  she'll  be,  and  an 
expensive  savage  he'll  find  her,  I'll  prophesy." 

"Like  enough.  Young  ones  of  any  sort  do  take  a  heap 
of  looking  after.  But  she's  smart,  as  I  said  before,  and 
I  do  think  it's  a  sight  better  to  make  room  for  a  likely 
young  girl  than  to  be  scared  most  to  death  with  young 
wolves  and  bears  tied  around  for  pets.  I  was  all  of  a 
shiver  at  night  on  account  of  them.  I'll  take  the  girl 
every  time.  She  won't  scratch  an'  claw  at  folks,  any- 
way." 

"Maybe  not/'  added  the  captain,  who  was  too  con- 
tented with  his  discontent  to  let  go  of  it  at  once.  "But 
no  telling  what  a  young  animal  like  that  may  develop 
into.  She  has  no  idea  whatever  of  duty,  Mrs.  Huzzard, 
or  of — of  veneration.  She  contradicted  me  squarely  this 
morning  when  I  made  some  comment  about  those  beastly 
redskins ;  actually  set  up  her  ignorance  against  my  years 
of  service  under  the  American  flag,  Mrs.  Huzzard.  Yes, 
madame!  she  did  that,"  and  Captain  Leek  arose  in  his 
wrath  and  tramped  twice  across  the  room,  halting  again 
near  her  table  and  staring  at  her  as  though  defying  her  to 
justify  that. 

When  he  arose,  one  could  see  by  the  slight  unstead- 
iness in  his  gait  that  the  cane  in  his  hand  was  for  prac- 


72  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

tical  use.  His  limp  was  not  a  deformity — in  fact,  it 
made  him  rather  more  interesting  because  of  it;  people 
would  notice  or  remember  him  when  nothing  else  in  his 
personality  would  cause  them  to  do  so. 

For  Captain  Alphonso  Leek  was  not  a  striking-look- 
ing personage.  His  blue  eyes  had  a  washed-out,  quer- 
ulous expression.  His  sandy  whiskers  had  the  appear- 
ance of  having  been  blown  back  from  his  chin,  and 
lodged  just  in  front  of  his  ears.  An  endeavor  had  been 
made  to  train  the  outlying  portions  of  his  mustache  in  line 
with  the  lengthy,  undulating  "mutton  chops;"  but  they, 
had,  for  well-grounded  reasons,  failed  to  connect,  and 
the  effect  was  somewhat  spoiled  by  those  straggling 
skirmishers,  bristling  with  importance  but  waiting  in 
vain  for  recruits.  The  top  of  his  head  had  got  above 
timber  line  and  glistened  in  the  sun  of  early  summer 
that  streamed  through  the  clear  windows  of  Mrs.  Huz- 
zard's  back  room. 

But  as  that  head  was  generally  covered  by  a  hat  that 
sported  a  cord  and  tassel,  and  as  his  bulging  breastbone 
was  covered  by  a  dark-blue  coat  and  vest,  on  which  the 
brass  buttons  shone  in  real  military  fashion — well,  all 
those  things  had  their  weight  in  a  community  where  few 
men  wore  a  coat  at  all  in  warm  weather. 

Mrs.  Huzzard,  in  the  depths  of  her  being,  thought  it 
would  be  a  fine  thing  to  go  back  to  Pennsylvania  as 
"Mrs.  Captain,"  even  if  the  captain  wasn't  as  forehanded 
as  she'd  seen  men. 

Even  the  elegant  way  in  which  he  could  do  nothing 
and  yet  diffuse  an  air  of  importance,  was  impressive  to 
her  admiring  soul.  The  clerical  whiskers  and  the  mili- 
tary dress  completed  the  conquest. 

But  Mrs.  Huzzard,  having  a  bit  of  native  wisdom  still 


AT  SINNA  FERRY  73 

left,  knew  he  was  a  man  who  would  need  managing, 
and  that  the  best  way  was  not  to  let  his  opinion  rule 
her  in  all  things ;  therefore,  she  only  laughed  cheerily  at 
his  indignation. 

"Well,  captain,  I  can't  say  but  she  did  flare  up  about 
the  Indians,  when  you  said  they  were  all  thieves  and 
paupers,  stealing  from  the  Government,  and  all  that. 
But  then,  by  what  she  says,  she  has  knowed  some  decent 
ones  in  her  time — friends  of  hers ;  an'  you  know  any  one 
must  say  a  good  word  for  a  friend.  You'd  do  that  your- 
self." 

"Maybe;  I  don't  say  I  wouldn't,"  he  agreed.  "But  I 
clo  say,  the  friends  would  not  be  redskins.  No,  madame ! 
They're  no  fit  friends  for  a  gentleman  to  cultivate;  and 
so  I  have  told  Dan.  And  if  this  girl  owns  such  friends, 
it  shows  plainly  enough  that  the  class  she  belongs  to  is 
not  a  high  one.  Dan's  mother  was  a  lady,  Mrs.  Huzzard ! 
She  was  my  wife,  madame!  And  it  is  a  distress  for  me 
to  see  any  one  received  into  our  family  who  does  not 
come  up  to  that  same  level.  That  is  just  the  state  of  the 
case,  and  I  maintain  my  position  in  the  matter;  let  Dan 
take  on  all  the  temper  he  likes  about  it." 

The  lady  of  the  pies  did  not  respond  to  his  remarks 
at  once.  She  had  an  idea  that  she  herself  might  fall 
under  the  ban  of  Captain  Leek's  discriminating  eyes, 
and  be  excluded  from  that  upper  circle  of  chosen  human- 
ity to  which  he  was  born  and  bred.  He  liked  her  pies, 
her  flap- jacks,  and  even  the  many  kinds  of  boiled  din- 
ners she  was  in  the  habit  of  preparing  and  garnishing 
with  "dumplings."  So  far  as  his  stomach  was  con- 
cerned, she  could  rule  supreme,  for  his  digestion  was  of 
the  best  and  her  "filling"  dishes  just  suited  him.  But 
Lorena  Jane  Huzzard  had  read  in  the  papers  some  ro- 


74:  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

mances  of  the  "gentle  folk"  he  was  fond  of  speaking  of 
in  an  intimate  way.  The  gentle  folk  in  her  kind  of 
stories  always  had  titles,  military  or  civil,  and  were  gen- 
erally English  lords  and  ladies ;  the  villains,  as  generally, 
were  French  or  Italian.  But  think  as  she  might  over  the 
whole  list,  she  could  remember  none  in  which  the  high- 
bred scion  of  blue  blood  had  married  either  a  cook  or  a 
milliner.  One  might  marry  the  milliner  if  she  was  very 
young  and  madly  beautiful,  but  Lorena  Jane  was  neither. 
She  remembered  also  that  beautiful  though  the  milliner 
or  bailiff's  daughter,  or  housekeeper's  niece  might  be, 
it  was  only  the  villain  in  high  life  who  married  her. 
Then  the  marriage  always  turned  out  at  last  to  be  a 
sham,  and  the  milliner  generally  died  of  a  broken  heart 

So  Mrs.  Huzzard  sighed  and,  with  a  thoughtful  face, 
stirred  up  the  batter  pudding. 

Captain  Leek  had  given  her  food  for  reflection  of 
which  he  was  little  aware,  and  it  was  quite  a  little  while 
before  she  remembered  to  answer  his  remarks. 

"So  Mr.  Dan  is  showing  temper,  too,  is  he?  Well 
— well — that's  a  pity.  He's  a  good  boy,  captain.  I 
wouldn't  waste  my  time  to  go  against  him,  if  I  was  you, 
and  there  he  is  now.  Good-morning,  Mr.  Dan!  Come 
right  in!  Breakfast  over,  but  I'll  get  you  up  a  bite  at 
any  time,  and  welcome.  It  does  seem  right  nice  for  you 
to  be  back  in  town  again." 

Overton  entered  at  her  bidding,  and  smiled  down  from 
his  tall  stature  to  the  broad,  good-natured  face  she 
turned  to  him. 

"Breakfast!  Why,  I'm  thinking  more  about  dinner, 
Mrs.  Huzzard.  I  was  up  in  the  hills  last  night,  and  had 
a  camp  breakfast  before  you  city  folks  were  stirring. 
Where's  Tana?" 


AT  SINNA  FERRY  75 

A  dubious  sniff  from  Captain  Leek  embarrassed  Mrs. 
Huzzard  for  a  moment.  She  thought  he  meant  to 
answer  and  hesitated  to  give  him  a  chance.  But  the 
sniff  seemed  to  express  all  he  wanted  to  say,  and  she 
flushed  a  little  at  its  evident  significance. 

"Well,  what's  the  matter  now?"  demanded  the 
younger  man,  impatiently,  "where  is  she — do  you 
know?" 

"Oh — why,  yes — of  course  we  do,"  said  Mrs.  Huz- 
zard hurriedly.  "I  didn't  mean  to  leave  you  without  an 
answer — no,  indeed.  But  the  fact  is,  the  captain  is  set 
against  something  I  did  this  morning,  but  I  do  hope  you 
won't  be.  Whatever  they  know  or  don't  know  in  sus- 
siety,  the  girl  was  ignorant  of  it  as  could  be  when  she 
asked  to  go,  and  so  was  I  when  I  let  her.  That's  the 
gospel  truth,  and  I  do  hope  you  won't  have  hard  feeling 
against  me  for  it." 

He  came  a  step  nearer  them  both,  and  looked  keenly 
from  one  to  the  other — even  a  little  threateningly  into 
the  watchful  eyes  of  Captain  Leek. 

"Let  her  go!  What  do  you  mean?  Where — Out 
with  it!" 

"Well,  then,  it  was  on  the  river  she  went,  in  one  of 
them  tiltuppy  Indian  boats  that  I'm  deathly  afraid  of. 
But  Mr.  Lyster,  he  did  promise  faithfully  he'd  take  good 
care  of  her.  And  as  she'd  seemed  a  bit  low-spirited  this 
morning,  I  thought  it  'ud  do  her  good,  and  I  part  told 
her  to  run  along.  And  to  think  of  its  being  improper 
for  them  to  go  together — alone!  Well,  then,  I  never 
did— that's  all !" 

"Is  it?"  and  Overton  drew  a  long  breath  as  of  relief 
and  laughed  shortly.  "Well,  you  are  perfectly  right, 
Mrs.  Huzzard.  There  is  nothing  wrong  about  it,  and 


76  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

don't  you  be  worried  into  thinking  there  is.  Max  Lyster 
is  a  gentleman — didn't  you  ever  happen  to  know  one, 
dad  ?  Heavens !  what  a  sinner  you  must  have  been  in 
your  time,  if  you  can't  conceive  two  young  folks  going 
out  for  an  innocent  boat  ride.  If  any  'sky  pilot'  drifts 
up  this  way,  I'll  explain  your  case  to  him — and  ask  for 
some  tracts.  Why,  man,  your  conscience  must  be  a 
burden  to  you !  I  understand,  now,  how  it  comes  I  find 
your  hair  a  little  scarcer  each  time  I  run  back  to  camp." 

He  had  seated  himself,  and  leaning  back,  surveyed 
the  irate  captain  as  though  utterly  oblivious  of  that 
gentleman's  indignation,  and  then  turned  his  attention 
to  Mrs.  Huzzard,  who  was  between  two  fires  in  her 
regret  that  the  captain  should  be  ridiculed  and  her  joy 
in  Overton's  commendation  of  herself.  The  captain  had 
dismayed  her  considerably  by  a  monologue  on  etiquette 
while  she  was  making  the  pies,  and  she  had  inwardly 
hoped  that  the  girl  and  her  handsome  escort  would  re- 
turn before  Overton,  for  vague  womanly  fears  had  been 
awakened  in  her  heart  by  the  opinions  of  the  captain. 
To  be  sure,  Dan  never  did  look  at  girls  much,  and  he 
was  as  "settled  down"  as  any  old  man  yet.  The  girl 
was  pretty,  and  there  was  a  bit  of  mystery  about  her. 
Who  could  tell  what  her  guardian  intended  her  for? 
This  question  had  been  asked  by  Captain  Leek.  Dan 
was  very  close-lipped  about  her,  and  his  reticence  had 
intensified  the  mystery  regarding  his  ward.  Mrs.  Huz- 
zard had  seen  wars  of  extermination  started  for  a  less 
worthy  reason  than  pretty  Montana,  and  so  she  had  done 
some  quiet  fretting  over  the  question  until  'Tana's  guard- 
ian set  her  free  from  worries  by  his  hearty  words. 

"Don't  you  bother  your  precious  head,  or  'Tana's, 
with  ideas  of  what  rules  people  live  by  in  a  society  of 


AT  SINNA  FERRY  77 

the  cities  thousands  of  miles  away,"  he  advised  her.  "It's 
all  right  to  furnish  guards  o'r  chaperons  where  people 
are  so  depraved  as  to  need  them." 

This  with  a  turn  of  his  eyes  to  the  captain,  who  was 
gathering  himself  up  with  a  great  deal  of  dignity. 

"Good-morning,  Mrs.  Huzzard,"  he  said,  looking  with 
an  unapproachable  air  across  Dan's  tousled  head.  "If 
my  stepson  at  times  forgets  what  is  due  a  gentleman  in 
your  house,  do  not  fancy  that  I  reflect  on  you  in  the 
slightest  for  it.  I  regret  that  he  entertains  such  ideas, 
as  they  are  totally  at  variance  with  the  rules  by  which 
he  was  reared.  Good-morning,  madame." 

Mrs.  Huzzard  clasped  her  hands  and  gazed  with  re- 
proach at  Overton,  but  at  thv  same  time  she  could  not 
repress  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"Well,  now,  he  is  good-natured  to  take  it  like  that, 
and  speak  so  beautiful,"  she  exclaimed,  admiringly ;  "and 
you  surely  did  try  any  man's  patience,  Mr.  Dan.  Shame 
on  you !" 

But  Dan  only  laughed  and  held  up  his  finger  warn- 
ingly. 

"You'll  marry  that  man  some  day,  if  I  don't  put  a 
stop  to  this  little  mutual  admiration  society  I  find  here 
on  my  return,"  he  said,  and  caught  her  sleeve  as  she  tried 
to  pass  him.  "Now  don't  you  do  it,  Mrs.  Huzzard.  You 
are  too  nice  a  woman  and  too  much  of  a  necessity  to 
this  camp  for  any  one  man  to  build  up  a  claim  for  you. 
Just  think  what  will  happen  if  you  do  marry  him !  Why, 
you'll  be  my  stepmother!  Doesn't  the  prospect  frighten 
you?" 

"Oh,  stop  your  nonsense,  Mr.  Dan !  I  declare  you  do 
try  a  body's  patience.  You  are  too  big  to  send  to  bed 
without  your  supper,  or  I  vow  I'd  try  it  and  see  if  it 
6 


78  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

would  tame  you  any.  The  captain  is  surely  righteous 
mad/' 

"Then  let  him  attend  to  his  postoffice  instead  of  inter* 
fering  with  your  good  cooking.  Jim  Hill  said  yesterday 
he  guessed  the  postoffice  had  moved  to  your  hotel,  and 
the  boys  all  ask  me  when  the  wedding  is  to  be." 

She  blushed  with  a  certain  satisfaction,  but  tossed  her 
head  provokingly. 

"Well,  now,  you  can  just  tell  them  it  won't  be  this 
week,  Mr.  Dan  Overton ;  so  you  can  quit  your  plaguing. 
Who  knows  but  they  may  be  asking  the  same  about  you, 
if  you  keep  fetching  such  pretty  girls  into  camp?  Oh, 
I  guess  you  don't  like  bein'  plagued  any  more  than  other 
folks." 

For  Overton's  smile  had  vanished  at  her  words,  and 
a  tiny  wrinkle  crept  between  his  brows.  But  when  she 
commented  on  it,  he  recovered  himself,  and  answered 
carelessly : 

"But  I  don't  think  I  will  keep  on  bringing  pretty  girls 
into  camp — that  is,  I  scarcely  think  it  will  grow  into  a 
steady  habit,"  he  said,  and  met  her  eyes  so  steadily  that 
she  dismissed  all  idea  of  any  heart  interest  in  the  girl. 
"But  I'd  rather  'Tana  didn't  hear  any  chaff  of  that  sort. 
You  know  what  I  mean.  The  boys,  or  any  one,  is  like 
enough  to  joke  about  it  at  first;  but  when  they  learn 
'for  keeps/  that  I'm  not  a  marrying  man,  they'll  let  up. 
As  she  grows  older,  there'll  be  enough  boys  to  bother 
her  in  camp  without  me.  All  I  want  is  to  see  that  she 
is  looked  after  right ;  and  that's  what  I'm  in  here  to  talk 
about  this  morning." 

"Well,  now,  I'm  right  glad  to  help  you  all  I  can — • 
which  ain't  much,  maybe,  for  I  never  did  have  a  sight 
of  schooling.  But  I  can  learn  her  the  milliner  trade — 


AT  SINNA  FERRY  79 

though  it  ain't  much  use  at  the  Ferry  yet ;  but  it's  always 
a  living,  anyway,  for  a  woman  in  a  town.  And  as  to 
cookin'  and  bakin' — " 

"Oh,  yes ;  they  are  all  right ;  she  will  learn  such  things 
easily,  I  think !  But  I  wanted  to  ask  about  that  cousin 
of  yours — the  lady  who,  you  said,  wanted  to  come  out 
from  Ohio  to  teach  Indians  and.  visit  you.  Is  she  com- 
ing?" 

"Well,  she  writes  like  it.  She  is  a  fine  scholar,  Lavina 
is;  but  I  kind  o'  let  up  on  asking  her  to  come  after  I 
struck  this  camp,  for  she  always  held  her  head  high,  I 
hear,  and  wouldn't  be  noways  proud  of  me  as  a  relation, 
if  she  found  me  doing  so  much  downright  kitchen  work. 
I  hain't  seen  her  since  she  was  grow'd  up,  you  know, 
and  I  don't  know  how  she'd  feel  about  it." 

"If  she's  any  good,  she'll  think  all  the  more  of  you 
for  having  pluck  to  tackle  any  honest  work  that  comes," 
said  Overton,  decidedly.  "We  all  do — every  man  in  the 
settlement.  If  I  didn't,  I  wouldn't  be  asking  you  to  look 
after  this  little  girl,  who  hasn't  any  folks — father  or 
mother — to  look  after  her  right.  I  thought  if  that  lady 
teacher  would  just  settle  down  here,  I  would  make  it 
worth  her  while  to  teach  'Tana." 

"Well,  now,  that  would  be  "wise,"  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Huzzard,  delightedly.  "An1  I'll  write  her  a  letter  this 
very  night.  Or,  no — not  to-night,"  she  added,  "for  I'll 
be  too  busy.  To-night  the  dance  is  to  be." 

"What  dance?" 

"Well,  now,  I  clean  forgot  to  tell  you  about  that.  But 
it  was  Mr.  Lyster  planned  it  out  after  you  left  yesterday. 
As  he's  to  go  back  East  in  a  few  days,  he  is  to  give  a 
supper  and  a  dance  to  the  boys,  and  I  just  thought  if 


80  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

they  were  going  to  have  it,  they  might  as  well  have  it 
right  and  so  it's  to  be  here." 

Overton  twisted  his  hat  around  in  silence  for  a  few 
moments. 

"What  does  Tana  think  of  it?"  he  asked,  at  last. 

"She?  Why,  land's  sakes!  She's  tickled  a  heap  over 
it.  Indeed,  to  go  back  to  the  commencement,  I  guess  it 
was  to  please  her  he  got  it  up.  At  least,  that's  the  way 
it  looked  to  me,  for  she  no  sooner  said  she'd  like  to  see. 
a  dance  with  this  crowd  at  the  Ferry  than  he  said  there 
should  be  one,  and  I  should  get  up  a  supper.  I  tell  you 
that  young  chap  sets  store  by  that  little  girl  of  yours, 
though  she  does  sass  him  a  heap.  They're  a  fine-looking 
young  couple,  Mr.  Dan." 

Mr.  Dan  evidently  agreed,  for  he  nodded  his  head  ab- 
sently, but  did  not  speak.  He  did  not  look  especially 
pleased  over  the  announcement  of  the  dance. 

"Well,  I  suppose  she's  got  to  learn  soon  or  late  whom 
to  meet  and  whom  to  let  alone  here,"  he  said  at  last,  in 
a  troubled  way,  "and  she  might  as  well  learn  now  as 
later.  Yet  I  wish  Max  had  not  been  in  such  a  hurry. 
And  he  promised  to  take  good  care  of  her  on  the  river, 
did  he?"  he  added,  after  another  pause.  "Well,  he's  a 
good  fellow;  but  I  reckon  she  can  guide  him  in  most 
things  up  here." 

"No,  indeed,"  answered  Mrs.  Huzzard,  with  prompt- 
ness, "I  heard  her  say  myself  that  she  had  never  been 
along  this  part  of  the  Kootenai  River  before." 

"Maybe  not,"  he  agreed.  "I'm  not  speaking  of  this 
immediate  locality.  I  mean  that  she  has  good  general 
ideas  about  finding  ways,  and  trails,  and  means.  She's 
got  ideas  of  outdoor  life  that  girls  don't  often  have,  I 


AT  SINNA  FERRY  81 

reckon.  And  if  she  can  only  look  after  herself  as  well 
in  a  camp  as  she  can  on  a  trail,  I'll  be  satisfied." 

Mrs.  Huzzard  looked  at  him  as  he  stared  moodily  out 
of  the  window. 

"I  see  how  it  is,"  she  said,  nodding  her  head  in  a 
kindly  way.  "Since  she's  here,  you're  afraid  some  of 
the  folks  is  most  too  rough  to  teach  her  much  good. 
Well,  well,  don't  you  worry.  We'll  do  the  best  we  can, 
and  that  dead  partner  o'  yours — her  father,  you  know — 
will  know  you  do  your  best;  and  no  man  can  do  more. 
I  had  a  notion  about  her  associates  when  I  let  her  go  out 
on  the  river  this  morning.  'Just  go  along,'  thought  I, 
'if  you  get  into  the  way  of  making  company  out  of  real 
gentlemen,  you'll  not  be  so  like  to  be  satisfied  with  them 
as  ain't—" 

"Good  enough,"  Dan  assented,  cheerily.  "You  have 
been  doing  a  little  thinking  on  your  own  account,  Mrs. 
Huzzard  ?  That's  all  right,  then.  I'll  know  that  you  are 
a  conscientious  care-taker,  no  matter  how  far  out  on  a 
trail  I  am.  There's  another  thing  I  wanted  to  say;  it's 
this :  Just  you  let  her  think  that  the  help  she  gives  you 
around  the  house  more  than  pays  for  her  keeping,  will 
you?" 

"Why,  of  course  I  will;  and  I'm  willing  enough  to 
take  her  company  in  change  for  boarding,  if  that's  all. 
You  know  I  didn't  want  to  take  the  money  when  you 
did  pay  it." 

"I  know;  that's  all  right.  I  want  you  to  have  the 
money,  only  don't  let  her  know  she  is  any  bill  of  expense, 
to  me.  Understand !  You  see,  she  said  something  about 
it  yesterday — thought  she  was  a  trouble  to  me,  or  some 
such  stuff.  It  seemed  to  bother  her.  When  she  gets 
older,  we  can  talk  to  her  square  about  such  things.  But 


82  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

now,  till  she  gets  more  used  to  the  thought  of  being  with 
us,  we'll  have  to  do  some  pious  cheating  in  the  matter. 
I'll  take  the  responsibilities  of  the  lies,  if  we  have  to  tell 
any.  It — it  seems  the  only  way  out,  you  see." 

He  spoke  a  little  clumsily,  as  though  uttering  a  speech 
prepared  beforehand  and  by  one  not  used  to  memoriz- 
ing, and  he  did  not  look  at  Mrs.  Huzzard  as  he  talked  to 
her. 

But  she  looked  at  him  and  then  let  her  hand  fall  kindly 
on  his  shoulder.  She  had  not  read  romances  for  noth- 
ing. All  at  once  she  fancied  she  had  found  a  romance 
in  the  life  of  Dan  Overton. 

"Yes,  I  see,  as  plain  as  need  be,"  she  said.  "I  see 
that  you've  brought  care  for  yourself  with  that  little 
mischief  in  her  Indian  dress;  an'  you  take  all  the  care 
on  your  shoulders  as  though  it  was  a  blessed  privilege. 
And  she's  never  to  know  what  she  owes  you.  Well, 
there's  my  hand.  I'm  your  friend,  Dan  Overton.  But 
don't  waste  your  days  with  too  much  care  about  this 
new  pet  you've  brought  home.  That's  all  I've  got  to 
say.  She'll  never  think  more  of  you  for  it.  Girls  don't; 
they  are  as  selfish  as  young  wolves." 


MRS.  HUZZARD'S  SUSPICIONS  83 


CHAPTER  VI. 
MRS.  HUZZARD'S  SUSPICIONS. 

Overton  sat  silent  and  thoughtful  for  a  little  while 
after  Mrs.  Huzzard's  words.  Then  he  glanced  up  and 
smiled  at  her. 

"Fve  just  been  getting  an  idea  of  the  direction  your 
fancies  are  taking,"  he  said  mockingly,  "and  they're 
very  pretty,  but  I  reckon  you'll  change  them  to  oblige 
me;  what  I'm  doing  for  her  is  what  I'd  do  for  any  other 
child  left  alone.  But  as  this  child  doesn't  happen  to  be 
a  boy,  I  can't  take  it  on  the  trail,  and  a  ranger  like  me 
is  not  fit  to  look  after  her,  anyway.  I  think  I  told  you 
before,  I'm  not  a  marrying  man,  and  she,  of  course, 
would  not  look  at  me  if  I  was;  so  what  does  it  matter 
about  her  thinking  of  me?  Of  course,  she  won't — it 
ain't  my  intention.  Even  if  she  leaves  these  diggings 
some  day  and  forgets  all  about  me,  just  as  the  young 
wolves  or  wildcats  do — well,  what  difference?  I've 
helped  old  bums  all  over  the  country,  and  never  heard 
or  wanted  to  hear  of  them  again,  and  I'm  sure  it's  more 
worth  one's  while  to  help  a  young  girl.  Now,  you're  a 
nice  little  woman,  Mrs.  Huzzard,  and  I  like  you.  But  if 
you  and  I  are  to  keep  on  being  good  friends,  don't  you 
speak  like  that  about  the  child  and  me.  It's  very  foolish. 
If  she  should  hear  it,  she'd  leave  us  some  fine  night,  and 
we'd  never  learn  her  address." 


84:  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

Then  he  put  on  his  hat,  nodded  to  her,  and  walked  out 
of  the  door  as  though  averse  to  any  further  discussion 
of  the  subject. 

"Bums  all  over  the  country!"  repeated  Mrs.  Huzzard, 
looking  after  him  darkly.  "Well,  Mr.  Dan  Overton,  it's 
well  for  you  that  ward  of  yours,  as  you  call  her,  wasn't 
near  enough  to  hear  that  speech.  And  you're  not  a 
marrying  man,  are  you?  Well,  well,  I  guess  there's 
many  a  man  and  woman,  too,  goes  through  life  and 
don't  know  what  they  might  be,  just  because  they  never 
meet  with  the  right  person  who  could  help  them  to  learn, 
and  you're  just  of  that  sort.  Not  a  marrying  man ! 
Humph!  When  there's  not  a  better  favored  one  along 
this  valley — that  there  ain't." 

She  fidgeted  about  the  dinner  preparations,  filled  with 
a  puzzled  impatience  as  to  why  Dan  Overton  should  thus 
decidedly  state  that  he  was  not  one  of  the  men  to  marry, 
though  all  the  rest  of  the  world  might  fall  into  the 
popular  habit  if  they  chose. 

"It's  the  natural  ambition  of  creation,"  she  declared 
in  confidence  to  the  dried  peach-pie  she  was  slipping 
from  the  oven.  "Of  course,  being  as  I'm  a  widow  my- 
self, I  can't  just  make  that  statement  to  men  folks  pro- 
miscuous like.  But  it's  true,  and  every  man  ought  to 
know  it's  true,  and  why  Dan  Overton — " 

She  paused  in  the  midst  of  her  soliloquy,  and  dropped 
into  the  nearest  chair,  while  a  light  of  comprehension 
illuminated  her  broad  face. 

"To  think  it  never  came  in  my  mind  before,"  she  ejac- 
ulated. "That's  it!  Poor  boy!  he's  had  a  girl  some- 
where and  she's  died,  I  suppose,  or  married  some  other 
fellow;  and  that's  why  he's  a  bachelor  at  nearly  thirty* 
I  guess,"  she  added,  thoughtfully.  "She  must  have  died, 


MRS.  HUZZARD'S  SUSPICIONS  85 

and  that's  why  he  never  looks  as  gay  or  goes  on  larks 
with  the  other  boys.  He  just  goes  on  a  lone  trail  mostly, 
Dan  does.  Even  his  own  stepfather  don't  seem  to  have 
much  knowledge  about  him.  Well,  well!  I  always  did 
feel  that  he  had  some  sort  of  trouble  lookin'  out  of  them 
dark  eyes  of  his,  and  his  words  to-day  makes  it  plain  to 
me  all  at  once.  Well,  well !" 

The  pensive  expression  of  her  face,  as  it  rested  on  her 
fat  hand,  was  evidence  that  Lorena  Jane  Huzzard  had, 
after  all,  found  a  romance  in  real  life  suited  to  her 
fancy,  and  the  unconscious  hero  was  Dan  Overton.  Poor 
Dan! 

The  grieving  hero  to  whom  her  thoughts  went  out 
was  at  that  moment  walking  in  a  most  prosaic,  lazy 
fashion  down  the  main  thoroughfare  of  the  settlement. 
The  road  led  down  to  the  Ferry  from  seemingly  no- 
where in  particular,  for  from  the  Ferry  on  both  sides 
of  the  river  the  road  dwindled  into  mere  trails  that  slipped 
away  into  the  wildernesses — trails  traveled  by  few  of 
the  white  race  until  a  few  short  years  ago,  and  then  only 
by  the  most  daring  of  hunters,  or  the  most  persevering 
of  the  gold-seekers. 

In  the  paths  where  gold  is  found  the  dwellings  of  man 
soon  follow,  and  the  quickly  erected  shanties  and  more 
pretentious  buildings  of  Sinna  Ferry  had  grown  there 
as  evidence  that  the  precious  metals  in  that  region  were 
no  longer  visionary  things  of  the  enthusiasts,  but  veri- 
table facts.  The  men  who  came  to  it  along  the  water, 
or  over  the  inland  trails,  were  all  in  some  way  connected 
with  the  opening  up  of  the  new  mining  fields. 

Overton  himself  had  drifted  up  there  as  an  independ- 
ent prospector,  two  years  before.  Then,  when  works 
were  got  under  way  all  along  that  river  and  lake  region^ 


86  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

when  a  reliable  man  was  needed  by  the  transfer  company 
to  get  specie  to  their  men  for  pay-days,  it  was  Overton 
to  whom  was  given  the  responsibility. 

Various  responsible  duties  he  had  little  by  little  shoul- 
dered, until,  as  Lyster  said,  he  seemed  a  necessity  to  a 
large  area,  yet  he  had  not  quite  abandoned  the  dreams 
with  which  he  had  entered  those  cool  Northern  lands. 
Some  day,  when  the  country  was  more  settled  and  trans- 
portation easier,  it  was  his  intention  to  slip  again  up  into 
the  mountains,  along  some  little  streams  he  knew,  and 
work  out  there  in  quietness  his  theories  as  to  where  the 
gold  was  to  be  found. 

Meantime,  he  was  contented  enough  with  his  lot.  No 
vaulting  ambition  touched  him.  He  was  merely  a  ranger 
of  the  Kootenai  country,  and  was  as  welcome  in  the 
scattered  lodges  of  the  Indians  as  he  was  in  the  camps 
of  the  miners.  He  even  wore  clothes  of  Indian  make, 
perhaps  for  the  novelty  of  them,  or  perhaps  because  the 
buckskin  was  better  suited  than  cloth  to  the  wild  trails 
over  which  he  rode.  And  if,  at  times,  he  drifted  into 
talk  of  existence  beyond  the  frontier,  and  gave  one  an 
idea  that  he  had  drunk  of  worldly  life  deep  enough  to 
be  tired  of  it,  those  times  were  rare ;  even  Lyster  had  but 
once  known  him  to  make  reference  to  it — that  one  even- 
ing after  their  ride  along  the  falls  of  the  Kootenai. 

But  however  tired  he  might  at  some  time  have  grown 
of  the  life  of  cities,  he  was  not  at  all  too  blast?  to  accom- 
modate himself  to  Sinna  Ferry.  If  poor  Mrs.  Huzzard 
had  seen  the  very  hearty  drink  of  whisky  with  which  he 
refreshed  himself  after  his  talk  with  her,  she  would  not 
have  been  so  apt  to  think  of  him  with  such  pensive  sym- 
pathy. 


MRS.  HUZZARD'S  SUSPICIONS  87 

The  largest  and  most  popular  saloon  was  next  door  to 
the  postoffice,  the  care  of  which  Dan  had  secured  for  his 
stepfather,  as  the  duties  of  it  were  just  about  as  arduous 
as  any  that  gentleman  would  deign  to  accept.  The  mail 
came  every  two  weeks,  and  its  magnitude  was  of  the 
fourth-class  order.  No  one  else  wanted  it,  for  a  man 
would  have  to  possess  some  other  means  of  livelihood 
before  he  could  undertake  it,  but  the  captain  accepted  it 
with  the  attitude  of  a  veteran  who  was  a  martyr  to  fiis 
country.  As  to  the  other  means  of  livelihood,  that  did 
not  cause  him  much  troubled  thought,  since  he  had 
chanced  to  fall  in  Dan's  way  just  as  Dan  was  starting 
up  to  the  Kootenai  country,  and  Dan  had  been  the  "other 
means"  ever  since. 

The  captain  watched  Overton  gulp  down  the  "fire- 
water," while  he  himself  sipped  his  with  the  appreciation 
of  a  gentleman  of  leisure. 

"You  didn't  use  to  drink  so  early  in  the  day,"  the  cap- 
tain remarked,  with  a  certain  watchful  malice  in  his 
face.  "Are  your  cares  as  a  guardian  wearing  on  your, 
nerves,  and  bringing  a  need  of  stimulants?" 

Overton  wheeled  about  as  though  to  fling  the  whisky- 
glass  across  at  the  speaker;  but  the  gallant  captain,  per- 
ceiving that  he  had  overreached  his  stepson's  patience, 
promptly  dodged  around  the  end  of  the  bar,  squatting 
close  to  the  floor.  Overton,  leaning  over  to  look  at  him, 
only  laughed  contemptuously,  and  set  the  glass  down 
again. 

"You're  not  worth  the  price  of  the  glass,"  he  decided, 
amused  in  spite  of  himself  at  the  fear  in  the  pale -blue 
eyes.  Even  the  flowing  side- whiskers  betrayed  a  sort 
of  alarm  in  their  bristling  alertness.  "And  if  it  wasn't 


88  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

that  one  good  woman  fancied  you  were  true  metal  in- 
stead of  slag,  I'd — " 

He  did  not  complete  the  sentence,  leaving  the  captain 
in  doubt  as  to  his  half-expressed  threat. 

"Get  up  there !"  Dan  suddenly  exclaimed.  "Now,  you 
think  you  will  annoy  me  about  that  guardianship  until 
I'll  give  it  up,  don't  you?"  he  said,  more  quietly,  as  the 
captain  once  more  stood  erect,  but  in  a  wavering,  un- 
certain way.  "Well,  you're  mightily  mistaken,  and  you, 
might  as  well  end  your  childish  interference  right  here. 
The  girl  is  as  much  entitled  to  my  consideration  as  you 
are — more !  So  if  any  one  is  dropped  out  of  the  family 
circle,  it  will  not  be  her.  Do  you  understand?  And  if  I 
hear  another  word  of  your  insinuations  about  her  amuse- 
ments, I'll  break  your  neck !  Two,  Jim." 

This  last  was  to  the  barkeeper,  and  had  reference  to 
a  half-dollar  he  tossed  on  the  counter  as  payment  for  his 
own  drink  and  that  of  the  captain ;  and  again  he  stalked 
into  the  street  with  his  temper  even  more  rumpled  than 
when  he  left  Mrs.  Huzzard's. 

Assuredly  it  was  not  a  good  morning  for  Mr.  Over- 
ton's  peace  of  mind. 

Down  along  the  river  he  came  in  sight  of  the  cause 
of  his  discontent,  the  most  innocent-looking  cause  in 
the  world.  She  was  teaching  Lyster  to  paddle  the  canoe 
with  but  one  paddle,  as  the  Indians  do,  and  was  laugh- 
ing derisively  at  his  ineffectual  attempts  to  navigate  in 
a  straight  line. 

"You — promised — Mrs.  Huzzard — you'd — take — care 
— of — me,"  she  said,  slowly  and  emphatically,  "and  a 
pretty  way  you're  doing  it.  Suppose  I  depended  on  you 
getting  me  in  to  shore  for  my  dinner,  how  many  hours 
do  you  think  I'd  have  to  go  without  eating?  Just  about 


MRS.  HUZZARD'S  SUSPICIONS  89 

sixteen.  Give  me  that  paddle,  and  don't  upset  the  canoe 
when  you  move." 

These  commands  Mr.  Lyster  obeyed  with  alacrity. 

"What  a  clever  little  girl  you  are !"  he  said,  admiringly, 
as  she  sent  the  canoe  skimming  straight  as  a  swallow 
for  the  shore.  "Now,  Overton  would  appreciate  your 
skill  at  this  sort  of  work" — and  then  he  laughed  a  little — 
'"much  more  than  he  would  your  modeling  in  clay." 

A  dark  flush  crept  over  her  face,  and  her  lips  straight- 
ened. 

"Why  shouldn't  he  look  down  on  that  sort  of  potter- 
ing around  ?"  she  demanded.  "He  isn't  the  sort  of  man 
who  has  time  to  waste  on  trifles." 

"Why  that  emphasis  on  the  he?"  asked  her  tormentor. 
"Do  you  mean  to  insinuate  that  I  do  waste  time  on  trifles  ? 
Well,  well !  is  that  the  way  I  get  snubbed,  because  I  grow 
enthusiastic  over  your  artistic  modeling  and  your  most 
charming  voice,  Miss  'Tana?" 

She  flashed  one  sulky,  suspicious  look  at  him,  and 
paddled  on  in  silence. 

"What  a  stormy  shadow  lurks  somewhere  back  of 
your  eyes,"  he  continued,  lazily.  "One  moment  you  are 
all  sugar  and  cream  to  a  fellow,  and  the  next  you  are 
an  incipient  tornado.  I  think  you  might  distribute  your 
frowns  a  little  among  the  people  you  know,  and  not  give 
them  all  to  me.  Now,  there's  Overton — " 

"Don't  you  talk  about  him,"  she  commanded,  sharply. 
"You  do  a  lot  of  making  fun  about  folks,  but  don't  you 
go  on  making  fun  of  him,  if  that's  what  you're  trying  to 
do.  If  it's  me — pooh!"  and  she  looked  at  him,  saucily. 
"I  don't  care  much  what  you  think  about  me ;  but  Dan — " 

"Oh !  Dan,  then,  happens  to-day  to  be  one  of  the  saints 
in  your  calendar,  and  plain  mortals  like  myself  must 


90  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

not  take  his  name  in  vain — is  that  it?  What  a  change 
from  this  time  yesterday! — for  I  don't  think  you  sent 
him  to  the  hills  in  a  very  angelic  mood.  And  you ! — well, 
I  found  you  with  a  clay  Indian  crumbled  to  pieces  in  your 
destroying  hands ;  so  I  don't  imagine  Dan's  talk  to  you 
left  a  very  peaceful  impression." 

He  laughed  at  her  fceasingly,  expecting  to  see  her  show 
temper  again,  but  she  did  not.  She  only  bent  her  head 
a  little  lower,  and  when  she  lifted  it,  she  looked  at  him 
with  a  certain  daring. 

"He  was  right,  and  I  was  silly,  I  guess.  He  was  good 
— so  good,  and  I'm  mostly  bad.  I  was  bad  to  him,  any- 
way, but  I  ain't  too  much  of  a  baby  to  say  so.  And  if 
he's  mad  at  me  when  he  comes  back,  I'll  just  pack  my 
traps  and  take  another  trail." 

"Back  to  Akkomi  ?"  he  asked,  gaily.  "Now,  you  know 
we  would  not  hear  to  that." 

"It  ain't  your  affair,  only  Dan's." 

"Oh,  excuse  me  for  living  on  the  same  earth  with  you 
and  Dan !  It  is  not  my  fault,  you  know.  I  suppose  now, 
if  you  did  desert  us,  it  would  be  to  act  as  a  sort  of  guard- 
ian angel  to  the  tribes  along  the  river,  turn  into  a  whole 
life-saving  service  yourself,  and  pick  up  the  superfluous 
reds  who  tumble  into  the  rivers.  I  wondered  for  a  whole 
day  why  you  made  so  strong  a  swim  for  so  unimportant 
an  article." 

"His  mother  thought  he  was  important,"  she  answered. 
"But  I  didn't  know  he  had  a  mother  just  then;  all  I 
thought  as  I  started  for  him  was  that  he  was  so  plucky. 
He  tried  his  little  best  to  save  himself,  and  he  never  said 
one  word;  that  was  what  I  liked  about  him.  It  would 
nave  been  a  pky  to  let  that  sort  of  a  boy  be  lost." 


MRS.  HUZZARD'S  SUSPICIONS  91 

"You  think  a  heap  of  that — of  personal  bravery — don't 
you  ?  I  notice  you  gauge  every  one  by  that." 

"Maybe  I  do.  I  know  I  hate  a  coward,"  she  said,  in- 
differently. 

Then,  as  the  canoe  ran  in  to  the  shore,  she  for  the  first 
time  saw  Overton,  who  was  standing  there  waiting  for 
them.  She  looked  at  him  with  startled  alertness  as  his 
eyes  met  hers.  He  looked  like  a  statue — a  frontier  sen- 
tinel standing  tall  and  muscular  with  folded  arms 
and  gazing  with  curious  intentness  from  one  to  the  other 
of  the  canoeists. 

In  the  bottom  of  the  boat  a  string  of  fish  lay,  fine 
speckled  fellows,  to  delight  the  palate  of  an  epicure.  She 
stooped  and  picking  up  the  fish,  walked  across  the  sands 
to  him. 

"Look,  Dan!"  she  said,  with  unwonted  humility. 
"They're  the  best  I  could  find,  and — and  I'm  sorry  enough 
for  being  ugly  yesterday.  I'll  try  not  to  be  any  more. 
I'll  do  anything  you  want — yes,  I  will !"  she  added,  snap- 
pishly, as  he  smiled  dubiously,  she  thought  unbelievingly. 
"I'd — dress  like  a  boy,  and  go  on  the  trails  with  you,  pad- 
dle your  canoe,  or  feed  your  horse — I  would,  if  you  like." 

Lyster,  who  was  following,  heard  her  words,  and 
glanced  at  Overton  with  curious  meaning.  Overton  met 
the  look  with  something  like  a  threat  in  his  own  eyes — a 
sort  of  "laugh  if  you  dare !" 

"But  I  don't  like,"  Dan  said,  briefly,  to  poor  Tana,  who. 
had  made  such  a  great  effort  to  atone  for  ugly  words 
spoken  to  him  the  day  before. 

She  said  no  more;  and  Lyster,  walking  beside  her, 
pulled  one  of  her  unruly  curls  teasingly,  to  make  her  look 
at  him. 


92  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  it  was  better  to  give  your  smiles  to  me 
instead  of  to  Overton?"  he  asked,  in  a  bantering  way,  as 
he  took  the  string  of  fish.  "I  care  a  great  deal  more  about 
your  good  opinion  than  he  does." 

"Oh — you — "  she  began,  and  shrugged  her  shoulders 
for  a  silent  finish  to  her  thought,  as  though  words  were 
useless. 

"Oh,  me!  Of  course,  me.  Now,  if  you  had  offered  to 
paddle  a  canoe  for  me,  I'd — " 

"You'd  loll  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat  and  let  me,"  she 
flashed  out.  "Of  course  you  would;  you're  made  just 
that  way." 

"Sh — h,  'Tana,"  said  Overton,  while  to  himself  he 
smiled  in  an  indulgent  way,  and  thought:  "That  is  like 
youth ;  they  only  quarrel  when  there  is  a  listener."  Then 
turning  to  the  girl,  he  said  aloud : 

"You  know,  Tana,  I  want  you  to  learn  other  things 
besides  paddling  a  canoe.  Such  things  are  all  right  for  a 
boy ;  but— " 

"I  know,"  she  agreed;  but  there  was  a  resentful  tone 
in  her  voice.  "And  I  guess  I'll  never  trouble  you  to  do 
squaw's  work  for  you  again." 

She  looked  squaw-like,  but  for  her  brown,  curly  hair, 
for  she  still  wore  the  dress  Overton  had  presented  to  her 
at  the  Kootenai  village ;  and  very  becoming  it  was  with  its 
fancy  fringes  and  dots  of  yellow,  green,  and  black  beads. 
Only  the  hat  was  a  civilized  affair — the  work  of  Mrs. 
Huzzard,  and  was  a  wide,  pretty  "flat"  of  brown  straw, 
while  from  its  crown  some  bunches  of  yellow  rosebuds 
nodded — the  very  last  "artificial"  blossoms  left  of  Sin- 
na  Ferry's  first  millinery  store.  The  young  face  looked 
very  piquant  above  the  beaded  collar;  not  so  pinched  or 
worn  a  face  as  when  the  men  had  first  seen  her.  The  one 


MRS.  HUZZARD'S  SUSPICIONS  1)3 

week  of  sheltered  content  had  given  her  cheeks  a  fullness 
and  color  remarkable.  She  was  prettier  than  either  man 
had  imagined  she  would  be.  But  it  was  not  a  joyous, 
girlish  face  even  yet.  There  was  too  much  of  something 
like  suspicion  in  it,  a  certain  watchful  attention  given  to 
the  people  with  whom  she  came  in  contact ;  and  this  did 
not  seem  to  abate  in  the  least.  Overton  had  noticed  it,  and 
decided  that  first  night  that  she  must  have  been  treated 
badly  by  people  to  have  distrust  come  so  readily  to  her. 
He  noticed,  also,  that  any  honest  show  of  kindness  soon 
won  her  over ;  and  that  to  Lyster,  with  his  graceful  little 
attentions  and  his  amused  interest,  she  turned  from  the 
first  hour  of  their  acquaintance  as  to  some  chum  who  was 
in  the  very  inner  circle  of  those  to  whom  her  favor  was 
extended.  Overton,  hearing  their  wordy  wars  and  not- 
ing their  many  remarks  of  friendship,  felt  old,  as  though 
their  light  enjoyment  of  little  things  made  him  realize  the 
weight  of  his  own  years,  for  he  could  no  longer  laugh  with 
them. 

Looking  down  now  at  the  clouded  young  face  under 
the  hat,  he  felt  remorsefully  like  a  "kill-joy;"  for  she  had 
been  cheery  enough  until  she  caught  sight  of  him. 

"And  you  will  never  do  squaw  work  for  me  again,  little 
squaw?"  Dan  questioned,  banteringly.  "Not  even  if  I 
asked  you?" 

"You  never  will  ask  me,"  she  answered,  promptly. 

"Well,  then,  not  even  if  I  should  get  sick  and  need  a 
nurse?" 

"You!"  and  she  surveyed  him  from  head  to  foot  with 
pronounced  unbelief.  "You'll  never  be  sick.  You're 
strong  as  a  mountain  lion,  or  an  old  king  buffalo." 

"Maybe,"  he  agreed,  and  smiled  slightly  at  the  dubious 

7 


94:  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

compliment.  "But  you  know  even  the  old  king  buffaloes 
die  sometime." 

"Die?  Oh,  yes,  in  a  fight,  or  something  of  that  sort; 
but  they  don't  need  much  medicine !" 

"And  even  if  you  did,"  said  Lyster>  addressing  Overton, 
"I'm  going  to  give  you  fair  warning  you  can't  depend  on 
'Tana,  unless  you  mend  your  ways.  She  threatened  to- 
day to  leave  us,  if  you  allow  the  shadow  of  your  anger 
to  fall  on  her  again.  So  take  heed,  or  she  will  swim  back 
to  Akkomi." 

Overton  looked  at  her  sharply,  and  saw  that  back  of 
Lyster's  badinage  there  was  something  of  truth. 

"You  did?"  he  asked,  reproachfully.  "I  did  not  know 
I  had  been  so  bad  a  friend  to  you  as  that." 

But  no  answer  was  made  to  him.  She  was  ashamed, 
and  she  looked  it.  She  was  also  angry  at  Lyster,  and  he 
was  made  aware  of  it  by  a  withering  glance. 

"Now  I'm  in  her  bad  books,"  he  complained;  "but  it 
was  only  my  fear  of  losing  her  that  urged  me  to  give  you 
warning.  I  hope  she  does  not  take  revenge  by  refusing 
me  all  the  dances  I  am  looking  forward  to  to-night.  I'd 
like  to  get  you,  as  her  guardian,  on  my  side,  Overton." 

The  girl  looked  up,  expectantly,  and  rested  her  slim 
fingers  on  the  arms  of  the  two  men. 

"I  could  not  be  of  much  use,  unless  I  had  an  invitation 
myself  to  the  dance,"  Dan  remarked,  dryly;  "mine  has 
evidently  been  delayed  in  the  mail." 

"You  don't  like  it?"  said  the  girl,  detecting  the  fact  in 
his  slight  change  of  tone.  "You  don't  want  me  to  go  to 
dances?" 

"What  an  idea !"  exclaimed  Lyster.  "Of  course,  he  is 
not  going  to  spoil  our  good  time  by  objecting — are  you, 
Dan  ?  I  never  thought  of  that.  You  see,  you  were  away ; 


MRS.  HUZZARD'S  SUSPICIONS  95 

but,  of  course,  I  fancied  you  would  like  it,  too.  I'll  write 
you  out  a  flourishing  request  for  your  presence,  if  that's 
all." 

"It  isn't  necessary;  I'll  be  there,  I  reckon.  But  why 
should  you  think  I  mean  to  keep  you  from  jollifications?'* 
he  asked,  looking  kindly  at  'Tana.  "Don't  get  the  idea 
in  your  head  that  I'm  a  sort  of  'Bad  Man  from  Roaring 
River,'  who  eats  a  man  or  so  for  breakfast  every  day,  and 
all  the  little  girls  he  comes  across.  No,  indeed!  I'll 
whistle  for  you  to  dance  any  time ;  so  get  on  your  war- 
paint and  feathers  when  it  pleases  you." 

The  prospect  seemed  to  please  her,  for  she  walked  closer 
to  him  and  looked  up  at  him  with  more  content. 

"Anyway,  you  ain't  like  Captain  Leek,"  she  decided. 
"He's  the  worst  old  baby!  Why,  he  just  said  all  sorts 
of  things  about  dances.  Guess  he  must  be  a  heavy  swell 
where  he  comes  from,  and  where  all  the  fandangoes  are 
got  up  in  gilt-edged  style.  I'd  like  to  spoil  the  gilt  for 
him  a  little.  I  will,  too,  if  he  preaches  any  more  of  his 
la-de-da  society  rules  to  me.  I'll  show  him  I'm  a  different 
boy  from  Mrs.  Huzzard." 

"Now,  what  would  you  do?"  asked  Lyster.  "He 
wouldn't  trust  himself  in  a  boat  with  you,  so  you  can't 
drown  him." 

"Don't  want  to.  Huh !  I  wouldn't  want  to  be  lynched 
for  him.  All  I'd  like  to  hit  hard  would  be  his  good 
opinion  of  himself.  I  could,  too,  if  Dan  wouldn't  object/* 

"If  you  can,  you're  a  wonder,"  remarked  Dan.  "And 
I'll  give  you  license  to  do  what  I  confess  I  can't.  But 
I  think  you  might  take  us  into  your  confidence." 

This  she  would  not  do,  and  escaped  all  their  questions 
by  taking  refuge  in  Mrs.  Huzzard's  best  room,  and  much 
of  her  afternoon  was  spent  there  under  that  lady's  sur- 


96  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

veillance,  fashioning  a  party  gown  with  which  to  astonish 
the  natives.  For  Mrs.  Huzzard  would  not  consent  to  her 
appearing  in  the  savageness  of  an  Indian  dress,  when  the 
occasion  was  one  of  importance — namely,  the  first  dance 
in  the  settlement  held  in  the  house  of  a  respectable  woman. 

And  as  'Tana  stitched,  and  gathered,  and  fashioned 
the  dress,  according  to  Mrs.  Huzzard's  orders,  she  fash- 
ioned at  the  same  time  a  little  plan  of  her  own  in  which 
the  personality  of  Captain  Leek  was  to  figure. 

If  Mrs.  Huzzard  fancied  that  her  silent  smiles  were  in 
anticipation  of  the  dancing  festivities,  she  was  much  mis- 
taken. 


A  GAME  OF  POKER  9? 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A  GAME  OF   POKER. 

Mr.  Max  Lyster,  in  his  hasty  plans  for  an  innocent 
village  dance,  had  neglected  to  make  allowance  for  a  cer- 
tain portion  of  the  inhabitants  whose  innocence  was  not 
of  the  quality  that  allowed  them  to  miss  anything,  no  mat- 
ter who  was  host.  They  would  shoot  the  glass  out  of 
every  window  in  a  house,  if  the  owner  of  the  house  should 
be  in  their  bad  books  for  any  trifling  slight,  and  would 
proceed  to  "clean  out"  any  establishment  where  their  own 
peculiar  set  was  ignored. 

There  were,  perhaps,  seven  or  eight  women  in  the  place, 
who  were  shown  all  respect  by  men  in  general.  They 
were  the  wives  and  daughters  of  the  city  fathers — the  first 
of  the  "family  folks"  to  give  the  stamp  of  permanency 
to  the  little  camp  by  the  river.  These  ladies  and  their 
husbands,  together  with  the  better  class  of  the  "boys," 
were  the  people  whom  Mr.  Lyster  expected  to  meet  and 
to  partake  of  his  hospitality  in  the  cheery  abode  of  Mrs. 
Huzzard. 

But  Overton  knew  there  were  one  or  two  other  people 
to  consider,  and  felt  impatient  with  Lyster  for  his  im- 
pulsive arrangements.  Of  course,  'Tana  could  not  know 
and  Mrs.  Huzzard  did  not,  but  Lyster  had  at  least  been 
very  thoughtless. 

The  fact  was  that  the  well-ordered  establishment  of 
Mrs.  Huzzard  was  a  grievance  and  a  thorn  in  the  side  of 


98  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

certain  womankind,  who  dwelt  along  the  main  street  and 
kept  open  drinking  saloons  seven  days  in  the  week.  They 
would  have  bought  ribbons  and  feathers  from  her,  and  as 
a  milliner  thought  no  more  about  her,  or  even  if  she  had 
opened  a  hotel,  with  a  bar  attached,  they  would  have  been 
willing  to  greet  her  as  a  fellow  worker,  and  all  would  have 
had  even  chances.  But  her  effrontery  in  opening  an  eat- 
ing house,  where  only  water — pure  or  adulterated  with  tea 
or  coffee — was  drunk —  Well,  her  immaculate  preten- 
sions, to  use  the  vernacular  of  one  of  the  disgusted,  "made 
them  sick." 

It  may  have  been  their  dislike  was  made  more  pro- 
nounced because  of  the  fact  that  the  more  sober-minded 
men  turned  gladly  to  the  irreproachable  abode  of  Mrs. 
Huzzard,  and  the  "bosses"  of  several  "gangs"  of  work- 
men had  arranged  with  her  for  their  meals.  Besides, 
the  river  men  directed  any  strangers  to  her  house; 
whereas,  before,  the  saloons  had  been  the  first  point  of 
view  from  which  travelers  or  miners  had  seen  Sinna 
Ferry.  All  these  grievances  had  accumulated  through  the 
weeks,  until  the  climax  was  capped  when  the  report  went 
abroad  that  a  dance  was  to  take  place  at  the  sickeningly 
correct  restaurant,  and  that  only  the  elite  of  the  settle- 
ment were  expected  to  attend. 

Thereupon  some  oaths  had  been  exchanged  in  a  desul- 
tory fashion  over  the  bars  at  Mustang  Kate's  and  Dutch 
Lena's ;  and  derisive  comments  made  as  to  Mrs.  Huzzard 
and  her  late  charge,  the  girl  in  the  Indian  dress.  Some 
of  the  boys,  who  owned  musical  instruments — a  banjo  and 
a  mouth  organ — were  openly  approached  by  bribery  to 
keep  away  from  the  all  too  perfect  gathering,  so  that  there 
might  be  a  dearth  of  music.  But  the  boys  with  the  musi- 
cal instruments  evaded  the  knbes,  and  even  hinted  aloud 


A  GAME  OF  POKER  99 

their  desire  to  dance  once  anyway  with  the  new  girl  of 
the  curly  hair  and  the  Indian  dress. 

This  decision  increased  somewhat  the  muttering  of  the 
storm  brewing;  and  when  Dutch  Lena's  own  man  indis- 
creetly observed  that  he  would  have  to  drop  in  line,  too, 
if  all  the  good  boys  were  going,  then  indeed  did  the 
cyclone  of  woman's  wrath  break  over  that  particular 
branch  of  Hades.  Lena's  man  was  scratched  a  little  with 
a  knife  before  quiet  was  restored,  and  there  had  been 
some  articles  of  furniture  flung  around  promiscuously; 
also  some  violent  language. 

Overton  divined  somewhat  of  all  this,  knowing  as  he 
did  the  material  of  the  neighborhood,  though  no  actual 
history  of  events  came  to  his  ears.  And  'Tana,  presenting 
herself  to  his  notice  in  all  the  glory  of  her  party  dress, 
felt  her  enthusiasm  cool  as  he  looked  at  her  moodily.  He 
would  have  liked  to  shut  her  away  from  all  the  vulgar 
gaze  and  comment  he  knew  her  charming  face  would  win 
for  her.  His  responsibilities  as  a  guardian  forced  on  him 
so  many  new  phases  of  thought.  He  had  never  before 
given  the  social  side  of  Sinna  Ferry  much  consideration ; 
but  he  thought  fast  and  angrily  as  he  looked  down  on  the 
slim,  girlish,  white-draped  figure  and  the  lovely  appealing 
face  turned  upward  to  him. 

"You  don't  like  it— you  don't  think  it  is  pretty?"  she 
asked,  and  her  mouth  was  a  little  tremulous.  "I  tried 
so  hard.  I  sewed  part  of  it  myself,  and  Mrs.  Huzzard 
said—" 

Lyster  arose  from  a  seat  by  the  window.  He  had  en- 
tered the  room  but  a  moment  before,  and  now  lounged 
toward  her  with  critical  eyes. 

"Mrs.  Huzzard  said  you  were  enchanting  in  your  new 
gown — is  not  that  it?"  he  asked,  and  then  frowned  at 


100  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

Overton  in  a  serio-comic  way.  "And  lives  there  a  man 
with  soul  so  dead  that  he  cannot  perceive  the  manifold 
beauties  arranged  for  his  inspection?  Well,  you  know  I 
told  you  I  appreciate  you  much  more  than  he  will  ever 
do;  so— " 

"What  nonsense  you  are  talking!"  said  Overton,  irri- 
tably. "Of  course,  the  dress  is  all  right.  I  don't  know 
much  about  such  things,  though ;  so  my  opinion  is  not 
worth  much.  But  I  don't  think  little  girls  should  be  told 
so  much  of  their  charms,  Lyster.  They  are  too  likely  to 
be  made  think  that  prettiness  is  the  only  thing  worth  liv- 
ing for." 

He  smiled  at  'Tana  to  soften  the  severity  of  his  speech ; 
but  she  was  not  looking  at  him  just  then,  and  so  missed 
the  softening  accompaniment.  She  felt  it  was  herself 
who  was  taken  to  task  instead  of  Lyster,  and  stood  with 
drooped,  darkening  face  until  the  door  closed  behind 
Overton. 

"That  is  your  fault,"  she  burst  out.  "He— he  might 
have  thought  it  was  nice,  if  you  hadn't  been  here  with 
your  fool  speeches.  You  just  go  around  laughing  at 
everything,  Mr.  Max  Lyster,  and  you're  just  as  empty 
as  that  china  cat  on  the  mantel,  and  it's  hollow.  I'd  like 
to  hit  you  sometimes  when  you  say  your  nice,  tantalizing 
words — that's  what  I'd  like  to  do;  and  maybe  some  day 
I  will." 

"I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  you  did,"  he  agreed,  and 
stepped  back  out  of  range  of  her  clenched  brown  hands. 
"Whew!  what  a  trial  you'd  be  to  a  guardian  who  had 
nerves.  You  are  spoiling  your  pretty  face  with  that  sa- 
tanic  expression.  Now,  why  should  you  make  war  on 
me?  I'm  sure  I  am  one  of  your  mo«£  devoted  servants- ** 


A  GAME  OF  POKER  101 

"You  are  your  own  devoted  servant,"  she  retorted, 
"and  you'll  never  be  any  other  person's." 

"Well,  now,  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,"  he  said,  and 
looked  at  her  smilingly.  All  her  anger  did  not  keep  him 
from  seeing  what  a  wondrous  difference  all  that  white, 
billowy  lawn  made  in  the  girl  whom  he  had  taken  for  a 
squaw  that  first  day  when  he  saw  her  swimming  the 
Kootenai 

She  looked  taller,  slighter,  with  such  lovable  curves  in 
the  girlish  form,  and  the  creamy  neck  and  arms  gleam- 
ing through  the  thin  material.  No  ornaments  or  ribbons 
broke  the  whiteness  of  her  garb — nothing  but  the  Indian 
belt  of  beads  that  Overton  had  given  her,  and  in  it  were 
reddish  tints  and  golden  brown  the  color  of  her  hair. 

To  be  sure,  the  cheeks  were  a  little  tanned  by  the 
weather,  and  the  little  hand  was  browner  than  need  be 
for  beauty ;  but,  for  all  that,  he  realized,  as  Overton  had 
seemingly  not  done,  that  the  girl,  when  dressed  as  dainty 
girlhood  should  be,  was  very  pretty,  indeed. 

"I  am  willing  to  sign  myself  your  bond  slave  from 
this  hour,  if  that  will  lessen  your  anger  against  me,"  he 
protested.  "Just  think,  I  leave  Sinna  Ferry  to-morrow. 
How  shall  I  do  penance  until  then  ?" 

"'It  may  be  for  years,  and  it  may  be  forever, 
Then  why  art  thou  silent,  O  voice  of  my  heart  ?' " 

She  pouted  and  frowned  a  little  at  his  warbling,  though 
a  smile  eventually  touched  her  lips,  and  speculation  shone 
in  her  eyes. 

"I  will  make  you  do  penance,"  she  declared,  "and  right 
now,  too.  I  haven't  any  money,  but  I'll  put  up  my  moc- 
casins against  five  dollars  in  a  game  of  poker." 

" You— play  poker?" 


102  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"I'll  try/'  she  said  briefly,  and  her  eyes  sparkled;  "I'll 
play  you  and  ask  no  favors." 

"Your  moccasins  are  not  worth  five." 

"Maybe  not.  Call  it  two-fifty  then  and  promise  me  two 
hands  at  that." 

"How  sure  you  are  to  win !"  he  laughed,  well  pleased 
that  she  was  diverted  from  her  quick  displeasure.  "We'll 
call  it  five  against  the  moccasins.  Here  are  the  cards. 
And  what  am  I  to  do  with  those  little  moccasins,  even  if 
I  do  win  them?" 

"Oh,  I'll  take  care  of  the  moccasins !"  she  said,  easily. 
"I  guess  they'll  not  trouble  you  much,  Mr.  Lyster.  Cut 
for  deal?" 

He  nodded,  and  they  commenced  their  game  there  alone 
in  Mrs.  Huzzard's  most  respectable  caf$.  Mrs.  Huzzard 
herself  did  not  approve  of  card  playing.  No  one  but  Cap- 
tain Leek  had,  as  yet,  been  allowed  that  privilege.  His 
playing  she  had  really  begun  to  look  upon  as  almost 
moral  in  its  effects,  since  he  pursued  it  as  the  most  inno- 
cent of  pastimes,  never  betting  more  than  a  few  dimes, 
and  since  it  secluded  him  effectually  from  the  roaring  lion 
of  iniquity  to  which  so  many  men  fell  victims  in  the  lively 
little  settlement.  But  'Tana,  knowing  that  card  playing 
by  a  girl  would  not  be  a  thing  within  Mrs.  Huzzard's  un- 
derstanding, glanced  warily  at  the  door  leading  to  the  sec- 
ond floor  of  the  establishment  and  comforted  herself  that 
the  mistress  of  the  domain  was  yet  employed  by  her  toilet 
for  the  evening. 

'Tana  dealt,  and  did  it  so  deftly  that  Lyster  looked 
at  her  in  surprise,  even  irritation.  What  business  had 
she  touching  the  bits  of  pasteboard  like  that — like  some 
old  gambler.  Such  a  slight  slip  of  a  thing,  with  all  the 
beauty  of  early  youth  in  her  face,  and  all  the  guilelessness 


A  GAME  OF  POKER  103 

of  a  vestal  in  the  pure  white  of  her  garb.  He  fancied  he 
would  have  felt  different  if  he  had  seen  her  playing  cards 
in  that  Indian  dress ;  it  would  not  have  brought  such  a 
discord  with  it.  And  it  was  not  merely  that  she  played, 
but  it  was  the  way  she  played  that  brought  vexation  to 
him — that  careless,  assured  handling  of  the  cards.  It 
seemed  almost  professional, — it  seemed — 

"I'll  just  take  that  little  five,"  remarked  his  opponent 
easily,  and  spread  out  the  cards  before  him.  "I  know 
what  you've  got,  and  it  won't  touch  this  flush,  and  if 
you  play  again  I'd  advise  you  to  gather  your  wits  and  not 
play  so  wild — that  is,  if  you  want  to  win." 

He  stared  at  her  in  astonishment.  It  was  quite  true — 
while  his  thoughts  had  been  with  her  personality  and  her 
incongruous  occupation,  her  thoughts  had  been  centered 
very  decidedly  on  the  points  of  the  game.  She,  at  least, 
had  not  played  "wild."  A  doubt  even  came  into  his  mind, 
as  to  whether  she  played  honestly. 

"I  don't  think  I  cared  about  winning,"  he  answered, 
"I'd  rather  have  given  you  the  stakes  than  to'  have  had 
you  play  for  them  that  way — yes,  'Tana,  double  the 
stakes." 

"Oh,  would  you?"  she  asked,  with  saucy  indifference. 
"Well,  I  ain't  asking  favors.  I  guess  I  can  win  all  I 
want." 

"No  doubt  you  can,"  he  assented,  gravely.     "But  as 
young  ladies  do  not  generally  depend  on  their  skill  with, 
cards  to  earn  their  pocket  money,  I'm  afraid  Overton 
would  have  a  lecture  ready  for  you,  if  he  learned  of  your 
skill." 

''Let  him,"  she  said,  recklessly.  "I've  tried  to  be  good, 
and  tried  to  be  nice,  and — and  even  pretty,"  she  added, 
touching  the  dainty  sleeve  and  skirt  of  her  dress,  "but 


104:  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

what  use  is  it?  He  just  stands  off  and  stares  at  me,  and 
even  speaks  sharp  as  if  he's  sorry  he  ever  brought  me 
down  here.  I  didn't  think  he'd  be  like  that.  He  was 
nicer  in  Akkomi's  village;  and  now — " 

She  hesitated,  and,  seeing  that  Lyster's  eyes  were 
watching  her  attentively,  she  laughed  in  a  careless  way, 
and  curled  the  five-dollar  bill  around  her  finger. 

"So  I  might  as  well  be  bad,  don't  you  see?  and  I'm 
going  to  be,  too.  I  want  this  five  dollars  to  gamble  with, 
and  ior  nothing  else  in  the  world.  I'm  going  to  get  square 
with  some  one." 

"Which  means  you  are  going  to  worry  some  one  else, 
just  because  Overton  has  annoyed  you,"  decided  Lyster. 
"That  is  a  woman's  idea  of  retaliation,  I  believe.  Am  I 
the  selected  victim?" 

"Of  course  you're  not,  or  I  wouldn't  have  told  you.  All 
I  wanted  of  you  was  to  give  me  a  start." 

"Exactly ;  your  frankness  is  not  very  flattering ;  but,  in 
spite  of  it,  I'd  like  to  give  you  a  start  in  a  different  way — 
toward  a  good  school,  for  instance.  How  would  you  like 
that?" 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  suspiciously,  she  was 
so  used  to  raillery  from  him ;  then  she  answered  briefly : 

"But  you  are  not  my  guardian,  Mr.  Max  Lyster." 

"Then  you  prefer  card  playing?" 

"No,  I  don't.  I'd  like  it,  but  my  income  can't  cover 
such  luxuries,  and  I  have  booked  myself  to  play  for  a 
time  this  evening,  if  I  can  get  the  man  I  want  to  play 
with." 

"But  that  is  what  you  must  not  do,"  he  said,  hastily. 
"With  Overton  or  myself,  of  course,  a  game  would  not 
do  you  any  special  harm ;  but  you  simply  must  not  indulge 


A  GAME  OF  POKER  105 

in  such  pastime  with  this  promiscuous  gathering  of  people 
— of  men." 

"But  it  isn't  men — it's  only  one  man  I  want  to  play — 
do  you  see  ?" 

"I  might  if  I  knew  who  it  was ;  but  you  don't  know  any 
men  here  but  Dan  and  me." 

"Yes,  I  do,  too.     I  know  Captain  Alphonso  Leek." 

"Perhaps,  but — "  Lyster  smiled,  and  shook  his  head 
dubiously. 

"But  he  won't  play  with  me,  because  he  don't  like  me ; 
that's  what  you  would  say,  if  you  were  not  too  polite*— 
isn't  it?  He  doesn't  approve  of  me,  and  can't  understand 
why  I'm  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  and  especially  why  Dan 
should  take  any  responsibility  but  Captain  Leek  on  his 
hands.  Huh !  Can't  I  see  ?  Of  course  I  do.  I  heard  him 
call  me  'that'  this  morning.  And  so,  I  want  to  play  a 
game  of  poker  with  him." 

She  looked  impishly  at  him  from  under  her  brows,  and 
twirled  the  money. 

"Won't  you  be  a  messenger  of  peace  and  fix  the  game 
for  me  ?"  she  asked,  insinuatingly.  "You  know  you  prom- 
ised to  do  penance." 

"Then  I  forswear  all  rash  promises  for  the  future,"  he 
declared. 

"But  you  did  promise." 

"Well,  then,  I'll  keep  my  word,  since  you  are  such  a  lit- 
tle Shylock.  And  if  it  is  only  the  captain — " 

She  laughed  after  he  had  gone  out,  and  sat  there 
shuffling  the  cards  and  building  them  into  various  forms. 
She  was 'thus  employed  when  Overton  again  passed  the 
window  and  entered  the  room  ere  she  could  conceal  them. 
He  observed  her  attempt  to  do  so  and  smiled  indulgently. 


106  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"Playing  with  the  cards,  are  you  ?"  he  asked,  in  a  care- 
less way.  "They  are  expensive  toys  sometimes.  But 
I'll  teach  you  'seven-up*  some  day ;  it's  an  easy  game." 

"Is  it  ?"  she  said ;  but  did  not  look  up  at  him.  His  in- 
difference to  the  pretty  dress  had  not  yet  ceased  to  annoy 
her. 

"Yes.  And  see  here,  'Tana!  I  forgot  to  give  you  a 
present  I  brought  you  a  little  while  ago.  It's  a  ring  a 
fellow  from  the  upper  lake  region  worried  me  into  buy- 
ing, as  he  was  dead  broke.  He  bought  it  from  an  Indian 
up  near  Karlo.  Queer  for  an  Indian  to  have,  isn't  it?" 

"Near  Karlo?"  she  said,  and  reached  out  her  hand 
for  it. 

There  was  a  strange  look  on  her  face,  a  strange  chok- 
ing sound  in  her  throat.  He  noticed  it,  and  his  voice  was 
very  kindly  as  he  spoke  again. 

"You  don't  like  even  to  hear  of  that  region,  do  you? 
You  must  have  been  very  miserable  somewhere  up  there. 
But  never  mind,  little  girl;  we'll  try  to  forget  all  that. 
And  if  the  ring  fits  you,  wear  it,  no  matter  what  country 
it  conies  from." 

She  tried  to  thank  him,  but  the  words  would  not  come 
easily,  and  her  outstretched  hand  in  which  the  ring  lay 
was  tremulous. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right,"  he  said  hastily,  afraid,  no  doubt, 
she  was  going  to  cry,  as  he  had  seen  her  do  before  at 
kind  words.  "Never  mind  about  the  thanks.  If  you  care 
to  wear  it,  that's  all  that's  necessary ;  though  a  snake  ring 
is  not  the  prettiest  of  ornaments  for  a  girl.  It  fits, 
doesn't  it?" 

"Yes,  it  fits,"  she  returned,  and  slipped  it  on  her  finger. 
"It  is  very  nice,"  but  she  shivered  as  with  cold,  and  her 
hand  shook. 


A  GAME  OF  POKER  107 

It  was  curious  enough  to  attract  notice  anywhere,  a 
silver  and  a  gold  snake  twined  together  with  their  heads 
meeting,  and  in  the  flattened  gold  head,  eyes  of  garnet 
gleamed,  while  the  silver  head  had  eyes  of  emerald.  Not 
a  girlish  looking  ornament,  surely. 

"I'll  wear  it,"  she  said,  and  dropped  the  hand  to  her 
side.  "But  don't  tell  the  rest  where  it  came  from.  I 
may  want  to  tease  them." 


108  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE   DANCE. 

"Ain't  it  lovely,  Ora  ?"  and  'Tana  danced  past  Ora  Har- 
rison, the  doctor's  pretty  daughter,  as  if  her  feet  had 
wings  to  them.  And  as  Ora's  bright  face  smiled  an 
answer,  it  was  clear  that  the  only  two  young  girls  in  the 
settlement  were  enjoying  Lyster's  party  to  the  full. 

For  it  was  a  pronounced  success.  Every  "boy"  invited 
was  there  in  as  much  of  festive  outfit  as  circumstances 
would  allow.  All  the  "family"  people  were  there.  And 
the  presence  of  Doctor  Harrison — the  only  "professional" 
man  in  the  town — and  his  wife  and  daughter  gave  a 
stamp  of  select  society  to  the  gathering  in  Mrs.  Huzzard's 
rooms. 

Mrs.  Huzzard  beamed  with  pleasure  at  the  great  suc- 
cess of  it  all.  She  would  have  liked  to  dance,  too,  and 
refused  most  unwillingly  when  Lyster  tried  to  persuade 
her.  But  a  supercilious  glance  from  the  captain  made  her 
refusal  decided.  The  doubt  as  to  whether  ladies  in 
"sussiety"  ever  did  dance  after  forty  years,  and  one  hun- 
dred and  sixty-three  pounds  weight,  deterred  her.  Now, 
if  the  captain  had  asked  her  to  dance,  she  would  have  been 
more  assured. 

But  the  captain  did  not;  and,  after  a  while,  he  was 
not  to  be  seen.  He  had  vanished  into  the  little  back  sit- 
ting room,  and  she  was  confident  he  was  engaged  in  his 


THE  DANCE  109 

innocent  pastime  of  a  friendly  game  of  cards  with  the 
doctor. 

"Go  and  dance  with  'Tana,  or  that  nice  little  girl  of  *he 
doctor's,"  she  said  to  Lyster,  when  he  was  trying  to  in- 
veigle her  into  a  quadrille — "that's  the  sort  of  partner  for 
you." 

"But  'Tana  has  disappeared  mysteriously ;  and  as  Miss 
Ora  is  'bespoke,'  I  can't  dance  with  her  unless  I  want  a 
duel  with  her  partner." 

"  'Tana  disappeared !  Well,  now,  I  haven't  seen  her 
for  two  dances,"  said  Mrs.  Huzzard,  looking  around 
searchingly,  "though  I  never  missed  her  till  this  minute." 

"Beg  pardon,  ma'am,"  said  a  voice  at  her  elbow;  "but 
is  it  the — the  young  lady  with  the  white  dress  you  are 
looking  for?" 

"Yes,  it  is,"  answered  Mrs.  Huzzard,  and  turned 
around  to  face  the  speaker,  who  was  an  apologetic-look- 
ing stranger  with  drab-colored  chin  whiskers,  and  a 
checkered  shirt,  and  a  slight  impediment  in  his  speech. 

"Well,  ma'am,  I  saw  her  go  into  that  room  there  quite 
a  spell  ago,"  and  he  nodded  toward  the  back  sitting  room. 
"She  hasn't  passed  out  again,  as  I've  seen." 

Then,  as  Mrs.  Huzzard  smiled  on  him  in  a  friendly 
way,  he  ventured  further: 

"She's  a  very  pretty  girl,  as  any  one  can  see.  Might  I 
ask  her  name?" 

"Oh,  yes !  Her  name  is  Rivers — Miss  'Tana  Rivers," 
said  Mrs.  Huzzard.  "You  must  be  a  stranger  in  the  set- 
tlement ?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,  I  am.    My  name  is  Harris — Jim  Harris. 
I  come  down  from  the  diggings  with  Mr.  Overton  this 
morning.     He  allowed  it  would  be  all  right  for  me  to 
step  inside,  if  I  wanted  to  see  the  dancing." 
8 


110  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"To  be  sure  it  is/'  agreed  Mrs.  Huzzard,  heartily.  "His 
friends  are  our  friends,  and  civil  folks  are  always  right 
welcome." 

"Thank,  you,  ma'arn;  you're  kind,  I'm  sure.  But  we 
ain't  just  friends,  especial.  Only  I  had  business  in  his 
line,  so  we  picked  up  acquaintance  and  come  into  camp 
together;  and  when  I  saw  the  pretty  girl  in  white,  I  did 
think  I'd  like  to  come  in  a  spell.  She  looks  so  uncommon 
like  a  boy  I  knew  up  in  the  'big  bend'  country.  Looks 
enough  like  him  to  be  a  twin ;  but  he  wasn't  called  Rivers. 
Has — has  this  young  lady  any  brothers  or  cousins  up 
there?" 

"Well,  now,  as  for  cousins,  they  are  far  out,  and  we 
hain't  ever  talked  about  them;  but  as  for  brothers  or 
sisters,  father  or  mother,  that  she  hasn't  got,  for  she  told 
me  so.  Her  pa  and  Mr.  Dan  Overton  they  was  partners 
once ;  and  when  the  pa  died  he  just  left  his  child  to  the 
partner's  care ;  and  he  couldn't  have  left  her  to  a  squarer 
man." 

"That's  what  report  says  of  him/'  conceded  the 
stranger,  watching  her  with  guarded  attention.  "Then 
Mr.  Overton's  partner  hasn't  been  dead  long?" 

"Oh,  no — not  very  long ;  not  long  enough  for  the  child 
to  get  used  to  talking  of  it  to  strangers,  I  guess ;  so  we 
don't  ask  her  many  questions  about  it.  But  it  troubles 
her  yet,  I  know." 

"Of  course — of  course ;  such  a  pretty  little  girl,  too." 

Then  the  two  fell  into  quite  a  pleasant  chat,  and  it  was 
not  until  he  moved  away  from  beside  her,  to  make  room 
for  the  doctor's  wife,  that  Mrs.  Huzzard  observed  that 
one  arm  hung  limply  beside  him,  and  that  one  leg  dragged 
a  little  as  he  walked.  He  was  a  man  who  bore  paralysis 
with  him. 


THE  DANCE  111 

She  thought,  while  he  was  talking  to  her,  that  he 
looked  like  a  man  who  had  seen  trouble.  A  weary,  drawn 
look  was  about  his  eyes.  She  had  seen  dissipated  men 
who  looked  like  that ;  yet  this  stranger  seemed  in  no  ways 
a  man  of  that  sort.  He  was  so  quiet  and  polite;  and 
when  she  saw  the  almost  useless  limbs,  she  thought  she 
knew  then  what  that  look  in  his  face  meant. 

But  there  were  too  many  people  about  for  her  to  study 
one  very  particularly,  so  she  lost  sight  of  the  stranger, 
Harris,  and  did  not  observe  that  he  had  moved  near  the 
door  of  the  sitting  room,  or  that  the  door  was  open. 

But  it  was;  arid  just  inside  of  it  Lyster  stood  watch- 
ing, with  a  certain  vexation,  a  game  of  cards  played  there. 
The  doctor  had  withdrawn,  and  was  looking  with  amuse- 
ment at  the  two  players — 'Tana  and  Captain  Leek.  The 
captain  was  getting  the  worst  of  it.  His  scattered  whis- 
kers fairly  bristled  with  perplexity  and  irritation.  Sev- 
eral times  he  displayed  bad  judgment  in  drawing  and 
discarding,  because  of  his  nervous  annoyance,  while  she 
seemed  surprisingly  skillful  or  lucky,  and  was  not  at  all 
disturbed  by  her  opponent's  moods.  She  looked  smilingly 
straight  into  his  eyes,  and  when  she  exhibited  the  last  win- 
ning hand,  and  the  captain  dashed  his  hand  angrily  into 
the  pack,  she  waited  for  one  civil  second  and  then  swept 
the  stakes  toward  her. 

"What!  Don't  you  want  to  play  any  more,  captain?" 
she  asked,  maliciously.  "I  would  really  like  to  have  an- 
other dance,  yet  if  you  want  revenge — " 

"Go  and  dance  by  all  means,"  he  said,  testily.  "When 
I  want  another  game  of  poker,  I'll  let  you  know,  but  I 
must  say  I  do  not  approve  of  such  pastime  for  young 
ladies." 


112  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"None  of  us  would,  if  in  your  place,  captain,"  laughed 
the  doctor.  "And,  for  my  part,  I  am  glad  I  did  not  play 
against  her  luck." 

The  captain  mumbled  something  about  a  difference  be- 
tween luck  and  skill,  while  'Tana  swept  the  money  off  the 
table  and  laughed — not  a  pleasant  laugh,  either. 

"One — two — three — four ! — twenty  dollars — that  is 
about  a  dollar  a  minute,  isn't  it  ?"  she  asked  provokingly. 
"Well,  captain,  I  guess  we  are  square  up  to  to-night,  and 
if  you  want  to  open  another  account,  I'm  ready." 

She  spoke  with  the  dash  and  recklessness  of  a  boy. 
Lyster  noticed  it  again,  and  resented  it  silently.  But 
when  she  turned,  she  read  the  displeasure  in  his  eyes. 

"Oh,  it's  you,  is  it?"  she  inquired  airily.  "Is  it  time 
for  our  dance  ?  You  see,  the  captain  wanted  some  amuse- 
ment, and,  as  the  doctor  was  nearly  asleep  over  the  cards, 
I  came  in  and  helped  them  out." 

"Beautifully,"  agreed  the  doctor. 

But  Lyster  borrowed  no  cheeriness  from  their  smiles. 

"I  think  it  is  our  dance,"  Lyster  observed.  "And  if 
yon  will  come — " 

"Certain,"  she  said,  with  a  nod;  but  at  the  door  she 
paused.  "Won't  you  keep  this  money  for  me?"  she  asked. 
"I've  no  pocket.  And  just  put  a  five  in  a  locked  pocket 
'for  keeps/  please ;  I  owe  it  to  you." 

"Tome?    You  won  that  five." 

"No,  I  didn't ;  I  cheated  you,"  she  whispered.  "Keep 
it,  please  do." 

She  pushed  the  money  into  his  hand.  One  piece  of  it 
fell  and  rolled  to  the  feet  of  the  stranger,  who  leaned 
carelessly  against  the  doorway,  but  in  such  a  position  that 
he  could  easily  see  into  the  sitting  room. 

He  stooped  and  picked  up  the  money. 


THE  DANCE 

"Yours,  miss  ?"  he  said,  courteously,  and  she  smilingly 
reached  out  her  hand  for  it — the  hand  on  which  Overton's 
gift,  the  strange  ring,  glittered. 

The  paralytic  stranger  barely  repressed  an  exclamation 
as  he  noticed  it,  and  from  it  his  eyes  went  swiftly,  ques- 
tioningly,  to  the  girl's  face. 

"Yes,  it's  mine,"  she  said,  with  a  nod  of  thanks.  Then 
she  smiled  a  little  as  she  saw  where  his  attention  was 
given.  "Are  you  wondering  if  the  snakes  you  see  are 
the  result  of  odd  drinks?  Well,  they  are  not;  they  are 
of  metal  and  won't  hurt  you." 

"Beg,  pardon,  miss.  Guess  I  did  look  at  your  pretty 
ring  sharp ;  and  it  is  enough  to  make  a  man  shake  if  he's 
been  drinking.  But  a  little  drink  will  do  me  a  long  time." 

Then  Lyster  and  the  girl  passed  on,  the  girl  smiling  at 
the  little  exchange  of  words  with  the  stranger.  But  Lyster 
himself  was  anything  but  well  pleased  at  the  entire  affair. 
He  resented  the  fact  that  he  had  found  her  there  gam- 
bling, that  she  had  shown  such  skill,  that  she  had  turned  to 
the  seedy-looking  stranger  and  exchanged  words,  as  men 
might  do,  but  as  a  girl  assuredly  should  not  do.  All  these 
things  disturbed  him.  Why,  he  could  scarcely  have  told. 
Only  that  morning  she  had  been  but  a  little  half-savage 
child,  who  amused  him  by  her  varying  moods  and  sharp 
speech.  But  to-night,  in  her  graceful  white  gown,  she 
seemed  to  have  grown  taller  and  more  womanly  and  win- 
some. The  glances  and  homage  of  the  most  acceptable 
youths  about  revealed  to  him  the  fact  that  she  was  some- 
what more  than  the  strong  swimmer  or  clever  canoeist. 
She  was  deemed  charming  by  others,  in  a  very  different 
fashion  than  he  had  thought  of  her,  and  she  appeared 
rather  too  conscious  of  the  fact.  He  fancied  that  she  even 
delighted  in  letting  him  see  that  others  showed  deference 


114  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

to  her,  when  he  had  only  that  day  teased  her  as  carelessly 
as  he  would  have  teased  a  boy  into  a  rage. 

Then  to  stop  and  jest  like  that  with  the  insignificant 
stranger  by  the  door !  Mr.  Lyster  said  a  bad  word  in  his 
mind,  and  decided  that  the  presuming  masculinity  of  the 
settlement  would  be  allowed  few  chances  for  favors 
the  remainder  of  the  evening.  He  intended  to  guard  her 
himself — a  formidable  guard  for  the  purpose,  as  a  man 
would  need  a  good  deal  of  self-reliance  to  try  for  favor 
if  so  handsome  a  personality  as  Lyster's  was  an  opponent. 

But  the  rather  shabby  stranger,  standing  by  the  inner 
door,  scarcely  noticed  the  noticeable  young  fellow.  All 
his  attention  was  given  to  the  girl  who  had  spoken  to 
him  so  frankly.  She  passed  on  and  did  not  observe  his 
excessive  interest.  But  his  eyes  lighted  up  when  he  heard 
her  voice  speaking  to  him,  and  his  face  flushed  with 
color  as  he  stroked  his  beard  with  his  well  hand  and  gazed 
after  her. 

"So  this  is  where  the  trail  begins,  is  it  ?"  he  whispered 
to  the  trembling  hand  at  his  lips.  "Well,  I  would  have 
looked  for  it  many  another  place  before  commencing  with 
a  partner  of  Mr.  Dan  Overton — law-and-order  man.  He 
must  have  gulled  this  whole  territory  beautifully  to  have 
them  swear  by  him  as  they  do.  And  'Monte'  is  his  pro- 
t$g£e!  Well,  Miss — or  Mr.  Monte — whichever  it  is — 
your  girl's  toggery  is  more  becoming  than  the  outfit  I 
saw  you  wear  last ;  but  though  your  hair  is  a  little  darker, 
I'd  swear  to  you  anywhere — yes,  and  to  the  ring,  too. 
Well,  I  think  I'll  rest  my  weary  body  in  this  'burgh*  for 
a  few  weeks  to  come.  If  the  devil  hasn't  helped  his  own, 
and  cheated  me,  this  partner — Mr.  'Rivers' — is  yet  alive 
and  in  the  flesh.  If  so,  there  is  one  place  he  will  drift 
sooner  or  later,  and  that  is  to  this  young  gambler.  And 


THE  DANCE  115 

then — then  death  will  be  no  sham  for  him,  for  I  will  be 
here,  too." 

To  'Tana — jubilant  with  her  victory  over  her  in- 
stinctive antagonist,  the  captain — all  the  evening  was 
made  for  her  pleasure,  and  she  floated  in  the  paradise  of 
sixteen  years;  and  the  world  where  people  danced  was 
the  only  world  worth  knowing. 

"I  will  be  good  now — I  can  be  as  good  as  an  angel 
since  I've  got  even  with  the  captain." 

She  whispered  those  words  to  Lyster,  whose  hand  was 
clasping  hers,  whose  arm  was  about  her  waist,  as  they 
drifted  around  the  rather  small  circle,  to  a  waltz  played 
on  a  concertina  and  a  banjo. 

She  looked  up  at  him,  mutely  asking  him  to  believe 
her.  Her  desire  for  revenge  satisfied,  she  could  be  a  very 
good  girl  now. 

It  was  just  then  that  Overton,  who  stood  outside  the 
window,  glanced  in  and  saw  her  lovely  upturned  face — 
saw  the  red  lips  move  in  some  pouting  protest,  to  which 
Lyster  smiled  but  looked  doubtfully  down  at  her.  To 
the  man  watching  them  from  without,  the  two  seemed 
always  so  close — so  confidential.  At  times  he  even  won- 
dered if  Lyster  had  not  learned  more  than  himself  of 
her  life  before  that  day  at  Akkomi's  camp. 

All  that  evening  Dan  had  not  once  entered  the  room 
where  they  danced,  or  added  in  any  way  to  their  merry- 
making. He  had  stood  outside  the  door  most  of  the  time, 
or  sometimes  rested  a  little'  way  from  it  on  a  store  box, 
where  he  smoked  placidly,  and  inspected  the  people  who 
gathered  to  the  dance. 

All  the  invited  guests  came  early,  and  perfect  harmony 
reigned  within.  A  few  of  the  unsavory  order  of  citizens 
had  sauntered  by,  as  though  taking  note  of  the  pleasures 


116  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

from  which  they  were  excluded.  But  it  was  not  until 
almost  twelve  o'clock — just  after  Overton  had  turned 
away  from  watching  the  waltz — that  a  pistol  shot  rang 
out  in  the  street,  and  several  dancers  halted. 

Some  of  the  men  silently  moved  to  the  door,  but  just 
then  the  door  was  opened  by  Overton,  who  looked  in. 

"It  was  only  my  gun  went  off  by  accident,"  he  said, 
carelessly.  "So  don't  let  me  stampede  the  party.  Go  on 
with  your  music." 

The  stranger,  Harris,  was  nearest  the  door,  and  essayed 
to  pass  out,  but  Overton  touched  him  on  the  arm. 

"Not  just  yet,"  he  said  hurriedly.  "Don't  come  out  or 
others  will  follow,  and  there'll  be  trouble.  Keep  them 
in  some  way." 

Then  the  door  closed.  The  concertina  sobbed  and 
shrieked  out  its  notes,  and  drowned  a  murmur  of  voices 
on  the  outside.  One  man  lay  senseless  close  to  the  door- 
step, and  four  more  men  with  two  women  stood  a  little 
apart  from  him. 

"If  another  shot  is  fired,  your  houses  will  be  torn 
down  over  your  heads  to-morrow,"  said  Overton,  threat- 
eningly ;  "and  some  of  you  will  not  be  needing  an  earthly 
habitation  by  that  time,  either." 

"Fury!  It  is  Overton!"  muttered  one  of  the  men  to 
another.  "They  told  us  he  wasn't  in  this  thing." 

"What  for  you  care?"  demanded  the  angry  tones  of  a 
Dutch  woman.  "What  difference  that  make — eh?  If  so 
be  as  we  want  to  dance — well,  then,  we  go  in  and  dance 
— you  make  no  mistake." 

But  the  men  were  not  so  aggressive.  The  most  auda- 
cious was  the  senseless  one,  who  had  fired  the  revolver 
and  whom  Overton  had  promptly  and  quietly  knocked 
down. 


THE  DANCE  117 

"I  don't  think  you  men  want  any  trouble  of  this  sort/* 
he  remarked,  and  ignored  the  women  entirely.  "If  you've 
been  told  that  I'm  not  in  this,  that's  just  where  some  one 
told  you  a  lie ;  and  if  it's  a  woman,  you  should  know  bet- 
ter than  to  follow  her  lead.  If  these  women  get  through 
that  door,  it  will  be  when  I'm  an  angel.  I'm  doing  you 
all  a  good  turn  by  not  letting  the  boys  in  there  know  about 
this.  No  religion  could  save  you,  if  I  turned  them  loose 
on  you ;  so  you  had  better  get  away  quiet,  and  quick." 

The  men  seemed  to  appreciate  his  words. 

"That's  so,"  mumbled  one. 

And  as  the  other  woman  attempted  a  protest,  one  of 
the  men  put  his  hand  over  her  mouth,  and,  picking  her 
up  bodily,  walked  down  the  street  with  her,  she  all  the 
time  kicking  and  making  remarks  of  a  vigorous  nature. 

The  humor  of  the  situation  appealed  to  the  delicate 
senses  of  her  companions,  until  they  laughed  right 
heartily,  and  the  entire  tone  of  the  scene  was  changed 
from  a  threat  of  battle  to  an  excuse  for  jollity.  The  man 
on  the  ground  reeled  upward  to  his  feet  with  the  help  of 
a  shake  from  Overton. 

"Where's  my  gun?"  he  asked,  sulkily. 

Blood  trickling  from  a  cut  brow  compelled  him  to 
keep  one  eye  shut. 

"Overton  has  it,"  explained  one  of  his  friends.  "Come 
on,  and  don't  try  another  racket." 

"I  want  my  gun — it  was  him  hit  me,"  growled  the 
wounded  one,  whose  spirits  had  not  been  enlivened  by 
the  spectacle  the  rest  had  witnessed. 

"You  are  right — it  was  him,"  agreed  the  other,  darkly ; 
"and  if  it  hadn't  been  for  breaking  up  the  dance,  I  guess 
he'd  a-killed  you.  Come  on.  You  left  a  ball  in  his 
arm  by  the  looks  of  things,  and  all  he  did  was  to  knock 


118  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

you  still.  He  may  want  to  do  more  to-morrow.  But  as 
you  have  no  gun,  you'd  better  wait  till  then." 

The  door  had  been  opened,  and  the  light  streamed  out. 
Men  talked  in  a  friendly,  jovial  fashion  on  and  about  the 
doorstep.  They  saw  the  forms  moving  away  in  the 
shadows,  but  no  sign  of  disturbance  met  them. 

Overton  stood  looking  in  the  window  at  the  dancers. 
The  waltz  was  not  yet  finished,  and  Tana  and  Lyster 
drifted  past  within  a  few  feet  of  him.  The  serenity  of 
their  evening  had  not  been  disturbed.  Her  face  held  all 
of  joyous  content — so  it  seemed  to  the  watcher.  She 
laughed  as  she  danced;  and  hearing  the  music  of  her 
high,  girlish  tones,  he  forgot  for  a  time  the  stinging  little 
pain  in  his  arm,  until  his  left  hand,  thrust  into  his  coat 
pocket,  slowly  filled  with  blood.  Then  Dan  turned  to  the 
man  nearest  him. 

"If  Doctor  Harrison  is  still  in  there,  would  you  do  me 
the  favor  of  asking  him  to  come  outside  for  a  few  min- 
utes ?"  he  asked,  and  the  man  addressed  stepped  closer. 

"There  is  a  back  way  into  the  house.  Hadn't  you  bet- 
ter just  step  in  that  way,  and  have  him  fix  you  up?  He's 
in  the  back  room,  alone,  smoking." 

Overton  turned  with  an  impatient  exclamation,  and  a 
sharp,  questioning  look.  It  was  the  half-paralyzed 
stranger — Harris. 

"Oh,  I  ain't  interfering!"  he  said,  amiably.  "But  as 
I  slipped  out  through  the  back  door  before  your  visitors 
left,  I  dropped  to  the  fact  that  you  had  some  damage  done 
to  that  left  arm.  Yes,  I'll  carry  any  message  you  like 
to  your  doctor,  for  I  like  your  nerve.  But  I  must  say  it's 
thankless  work  to  stand  up  as  a  silent  target  for  cold  lead, 
just  so  some  one  else  may  dance  undisturbed.  Take  an 
old  man's  advice,  sonny,  do  some  of  the  dancing  yourself." 


THE  STRANGER'S  WARNING  119 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  STRANGER'S  WARNING. 

That  one  festive  night  decided  the  immediate  future 
of  'Tana.  All  her  joy  in  it  did  not  prevent  a  decision  that 
it  should  be  the  last  in  her  experience,  for  a  year  to  come, 
at  least. 

It  was  Lyster  who  broached  the  subject,  and  Overton 
looked  at  him  closely  while  he  talked. 

"You  are  right,"  he  decided,  at  last;  "a  school  is  the 
easiest  path  out  of  this  jungle,  I  reckon.  I  thought  of  a 
school,  but  didn't  know  where — I'm  not  posted  on  such 
things.  But  if  you  know  the  trail  to  a  good  one,  we'll 
fix  it.  She  has  no  family  folks  at  all,  so — " 

"I'd  like  to  ask,  if  it's  allowable—" 

"Don't  ask  me  about  her  people,"  said  the  other, 
quickly ;  "she  wouldn't  want  me  to  talk  of  them.  You  see, 
Max,  all  sorts  get  caught  in  whirlpools  of  one  sort  or 
another,  when  ventures  are  made  in  a  new  country  like 
this,  and  often  it's  a  thoroughbred  that  goes  under  first, 
while  a  lot  of  scrub  stock  will  pull  through  an  epidemic 
and  never  miss  a  feed.  Well,  her  folks  belonged  to  the 
list  that  has  gone  under — speculating  people,  you  know, 
who  left  her  stranded  when  they  started  'over  the  range/ 
and  she's  sensitive  about  it — has  a  sort  of  pride,  too,  and 
doesn't  want  to  be  pitied,  I  guess.  Anyway,  I've  prom- 
ised she  sha'n't  be  followed  by  any  reminder  of  her  mis- 
fortunes, and  I  can't  go  into  details." 


120  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"Oh,  that's  all  right ;  I'm  not  curious  to  know  whether 
her  folks  had  a  palace  or  a  cabin  to  live  in.  But  she  has 
brightness.  I  like  her  well  enough  to  give  up  some 
useless  pastimes  that  are  expensive,  and  contribute  the 
results  to  a  school  fund  for  her,  if  you  say  yes.  But  I 
should  like  to  know  if  her  people  belonged  to  the  class 
we  call  ladies  and  gentlemen — that  is  all." 

Overton  did  not  answer  at  once.  His  eyes  were  turned 
toward  his  bandaged  arm,  and  a  little  wrinkle  grew  be- 
tween his  brows. 

"The  man  is  dead,  and  I  don't  think  there's  anything 
for  me  to  say  as  to  his  gentlemanly  qualities,"  he  said  at 
last.  "He  was  a  prospector  and  speculator,  with  an  equal 
amount  of  vice  and  virtue  in  him,  I  suppose;  just  about 
like  the  rest  of  us.  Her  mother  I  never  saw,  but  have 
reason  to  think  she  was  a  lady." 

"And  you  say  every  word  of  that  as  if  they  were  drawn 
from  you  with  forceps,"  said  Lyster,  cheerily.  "Well, 
I'll  not  bother  you  about  it  again.  But,  you  see,  there  is 
a  cousin  of  mine  at  the  school  I  spoke  of,  and  I  wanted 
to  know  because  of  that.  It's  all  right,  though ;  my  own 
instincts  would  tell  me  she  came  of  good  stock.  But  even 
good  stock  will  grow  wild,  you  know,  if  it  doesn't  get 
the  right  sort  of  training.  You  know,  old  fellow,  I'm 
downright  in  earnest  about  wanting  to  help  you  about 
her." 

"Yes,  I  know.  You  have,  too,"  said  the  other.  "You've 
pointed  out  the  school  and  all,  and  we  see  she  can't  be 
left  here." 

"Not  when  you  are  ranging  around  the  hills,  and  never 
a  man  to  take  your  place  as  a  guard,"  agreed  Lyster.  "I 
feel  about  two  years  old  ever  since  I  heard  of  how  you 
kept  annoyances  from  us  last  night  while  we  were  so 


THE  STRANGER'S  WARNING  121 

serenely  unconscious  of  your  trials.  'Tana  will  scarcely 
look  at  me  this  morning,  for  no  reason  but  that  I  did  not 
divine  the  state  of  affairs  and  go  to  help  you.  That  girl 
has  picked  up  so  much  queer  knowledge  herself  that  she 
expects  every  one  to  be  gifted  with  second  sight." 

Then  he  told,  with  a  good  deal  of  amusement,  the 
episode  of  the  poker  game  and  the  discomfiture  of  the 
captain. 

Overton  said  little.  He  was  not  so  much  shocked  or 
vexed  over  it  as  Lyster  had  been,  because  he  had  lived 
more  among  people  to  whom  such  pastimes  were  not 
unusual. 

"And  I  offered  to  teach  her  'seven-up,'  because  it  was 
easy,"  he  remarked  grimly.  "Yes,  the  school  is  best. 
You  see,  even  if  I  am  on  the  ground,  I'm  not  a  fit  guard- 
ian. Didn't  I  give  her  leave  to  get  square  with  the 
old  man?  While,  if  I'd  been  the  right  sort  of  a  guard- 
ian, she  would  have  been  given  a  moral  lecture  on  the 
sinfulness  of  revenge.  I  guess  we'd  better  begin  to  talk 
school  right  away." 

"I  imagine  she'll  object  at  first,  through  force  of  habit, 
and  protest  that  she  knows  enough  for  one  girl." 

But  she  did  not.  She  listened  with  wonder  in  her  eyes, 
and  something  of  shamed  contrition  in  her  face,  and 
knew  so  well — so  very  well  that  she  did  not  deserve  it. 
She  had  wanted — really  wanted  to  vex  him  when  she 
played  the  cards,  when  she  had  danced  past,  and  never 
let  on  she  saw  him  looking  somberly  in  at  the  window 
the  night  before.  But  in  the  light  of  morning  and  with 
the  knowledge  of  his  wounded  arm,  all  her  resentment 
was  gone.  She  could  scarcely  speak  even  the  words  she 
meant  to  say. 

"I  can't  do  that — go,  I  mean.    It  will  cost  so  muclx, 


122  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

and  I  have  no  money.  I  can't  make  any  here,  and — and 
you  are  not  rich  enough  to  lend  it  to  me,  even  if  I  could 
pay  it  back  some  day,  so — " 

"Never  mind  about  the  money;  it  will  be  got.  I'm 
to  start  up  north  of  this  soon,  and  this  doesn't  seem  a  good 
place  to  school  you  in,  anyway.  So,  for  a  year  or  so, 
you  go  to  that  school  down  in  Helena.  Max  knows  the 
name  of  it ;  I  forget.  When  you  get  all  rigged  out  with  an 
education,  and  have  a  capital  of  knowledge,  you  can  talk 
then  about  the  money  and  paying  it,  if  it  makes  you  feel 
more  comfortable.  But  just  now  you  be  a  good  little 
girl ;  go  down  there  with  Max  to  the  school,  study  hard, 
so  that  if  I  drop  into  a  chasm  some  night,  or  am  picked 
off  by  a  bullet,  you'll  have  learned,  anyway,  how  to  look 
after  yourself  in  the  right  way." 

"Oh,  it's  Mr.  Max,  then,  that's  planning  this,  is  it?" 
she  asked  suddenly,  and  her  face  flushed  a  little — he  must 
have  thought  in  anger,  for  he  said: 

"Why — yes;  that  is — mostly.  You  see,  Tana,  I've 
drifted  out  from  the  ways  of  the  world  while  Max  has 
kept  up  with  them.  So  he  proposed — well,  no  matter 
about  the  plan.  I'm  to  suggest  it  to  you,  and  as  it's  no 
loss  and  all  gain  to  you,  I  reckon  you'll  be  sensible  enough 
to  say  yes." 

"I  will,"  she  answered,  quietly;  "it  is  very  kind  of 
you  both  to  be  so  good  to  me,  for  I  haven't  been  good  to 
you — to  either  of  you,  I'm  sorry — I — maybe  I'll  be  better 
when  I  come  back — and — maybe  I  can  pay  you  some 
day." 

"Me  ?  Oh,  you  won't  owe  me  anything,  and  I  reckon 
you'd  better  not  make  plans  about  coming  back  here! 
The  books  and  things  you  learn  will  likely  turn  you 


THE  STRANGER'S  WARNING  123- 

toward  other  places — finer  places.  This  is  all  right  for 
men  who  have  money  to  make;  but  you — " 

"I'm  coming  back  here,"  she  said,  nodding  her  head 
emphatically.  "Maybe  not  for  always — but  I'll  come  back 
some  time — I  will." 

She  was  twisting  her  fingers  in  a  nervous  way,  and,  as- 
he  watched  her,  he  noticed  that  her  little  brown  hands 
were  devoid  of  all  ornament. 

"Where  is  the  ring?"  he  asked.  "Have  you  lost  it  aL 
ready?" 

"No,  it's  here — in  my  pocket,"  and  she  drew  it  out  that 
he  might  see.  "I — I  took  it  off  this  morning  when  I 
saw  you  were  shot.  You'll  laugh,  I  suppose;  but  I 
thought  the  snakes  brought  bad  luck." 

"So  you  are  superstitious  ?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know!  I'm  not  afraid  very  often;  but 
sometimes  I  think  there  are  signs  that  are  true.  I've 
heard  old  folks  say  so,  and  talk  of  things  unlucky.  I 
took  the  ring  off  when  I  saw  your  arm." 

"But  the  arm  was  only  scratched — not  worth  a  thought 
from  a  little  girl  like  you,"  he  said;  "and  surely  not 
worth  throwing  off  your  jewelry  for.  But  some  day — 
some  day  of  good  luck,  I  may  find  you  a  prettier  ring 
— one  more  like  a  girl's  ring,  you  know;  one  you  can 
wear  and  not  be  afraid." 

"If  I'm  afraid,  it  isn't  for  myself,"  she  said,  with  that 
old,  unchildlike  look  he  had  not  seen  in  her  eyes  of  late. 
"But  I'll  tell  you  what  I'm  afraid  of.  Have  you  ever 
heard  of  people  who  were  'hoodoos'?  I  guess  you  have. 
Well,  sometimes  I'm  afraid  I'm  just  that — like  the  snakes 
in  that  ring.  I'm  afraid  I  bring  bad  luck  to  people — 
people  I  like.  It  isn't  the  harm  to  me  that  ever  frightens 


124  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

me.  I  guess  I  can  fight  that;  but  no  one  can  fight  a 
'hoodoo/  I  guess ;  and  your  arm — " 

"Oh,  see  here!  Wake  up,  'Tana,  you're  dreaming! 
Who  put  that  cussed  nonsense  into  your  head  ?  'Hoodoo !' 
Pshaw!  I  will  have  patience  with  you  in  anything  but 
that.  Did  any  one  look  at  you  last  night  as  if  you  were 
a  'hoodoo'  ?  Here  comes  Max ;  we'll  ask  him." 

But  she  did  not  smile  at  their  badinage. 

"I  was  in  earnest,  and  you  think  it  only  funny,"  she 
said.  "Well,  maybe  you  won't  always  laugh  at  it.  Men 
who  know  a  heap  believe  in  'hoodoos.' ': 

"But  not  'hoodoos'  possessed  of  the  tout  ensemble  of 
Miss  Rivers,"  objected  Lyster.  "You  are  simply  trying 
to  scare  us — me,  out  of  the  journey  I  hoped  to  make  with 
you  to  Helena.  You  are  trying  to  evade  a  year  of 
scholastic  training  we  have  planned  for  you,  and  you 
would  like  to  prophesy  that  the  boat  will  blow  up  or  the 
cars  run  off  the  track  if  you  embark.  But  it  won't.  You 
will  say  good-by  to  your  ogre  of  a  guardian  to-morrow. 
You  will  be  guarded  by  no  less  a  personage  than  my  im- 
maculate self  to  the  door  of  your  academy;  from  which 
you  will  emerge,  later  on,  with  never  a  memory  of  koo- 
doos' in  your  wise  brain ;  and  you  will  live  to  a  green  old 
age  and  make  clay  busts  of  us  both  when  we  are  gray 
haired.  There !  I  think  I'm  a  good  healthy  sort  of  a 
prophet;  and  as  a  reward  will  you  go  with  me  to-mor- 
row?" 

"With  you  ?    Then  it  is  you  who — " 

"Who  has  planned  the  whole  brilliant  scheme?  Ex- 
actly— the  journey  part  of  it  at  all  events;  and  I'm  not 
so  modest  as  our  friend  here.  I'll  take  the  blame  of  my 
share,  and  his,  too,  if  he  doesn't  speak  up  for  himself. 


THE  STRANGER'S  WARNING  125 

Here  comes  your  new  friend,  Dan.    Where  did  you  pick 
him  up?" 

It  was  the  man  Harris,  and  beside  him  was  the  captain. 
They  were  talking  with  some  animation  of  late  Indian 
raids  to  the  westward. 

"I  doubt  if  it  was  Indians  at  all  who  did  the  thiev- 
ing," remarked  Harris;  "there  are  always  a  lot  of  scrub 
whites  ready  to  take  advantage  of  war  signals,  and  do 
devilment  of  that  sort,  made  up  as  reds." 

"Oh,  yes — some  say  so !  That  man  Holly  used  to  get 
the  credit  of  that  sort  of  renegade  work.  Handsome 
Holly  he  was  called  once.  But  now  that  he's  dead,  maybe 
we'll  see  he  was  not  the  only  one  to  work  mischief  be- 
tween the  whites  and  reds." 

"Holly?  Lee  Holly?"  asked  Lyster.  "Why,  didn't  we 
hear  a  rumor  that  he  wasn't  dead  at  all,  but  had  been  seen 
somewhere  near  Butte?" 

"I  didn't,"  returned  Overton,  who  was  the  one  ad- 
dressed, "though  it  may  be  so.  He's  a  very  slippery  speci- 
men and  full  of  schemes,  from  what  I  hear.  But  he 
doesn't  seem  to  range  over  this  territory,  so  I've  never  run 
across  him.  It  would  be  like  him,  though,  to  play  dead 
when  the  Government  men  grew  warm  on  his  trail,  and 
he'd  no  doubt  get  plenty  of  help  from  his  Indian  allies." 

Harris  was  watching  him  keenly,  and  the  careless  hon- 
esty of  the  speaker's  face  and  tone  evidently  perplexed 
him,  for  he  turned  with  a  baffled  look  to  the  girl,  who 
stood  with  down-dropped  eyes,  and  twisted  a  spray  of 
leaves  nervously  around  her  fingers.  He  noticed  one 
quick,  troubled  glance  she  gave  Overton,  but  even  to  his 
suspicious  eyes  it  did  not  seem  a  regard  given  a  fellow- 
conspirator. 
9 


126  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"I  believe  it  was  the  doctor  I  heard  speak  of  the  rumor 
that  Holly  was  yet  above  ground,"  said  Lyster.  "The 
mail  came  up  yesterday,  and  perhaps  he  found  it  in  the 
papers.  Don't  think  I  had  heard  of  the  man  before.  Is 
he  one  of  the  important  people  up  here?" 

"Rather,"  remarked  Overton,  "an  accomplished  crook 
who  has  dabbled  in  several  trades  in  the  Columbia  River 
region.  The  latest  was  a  wholesale  horse  steal  from  a 
ranch  over  in  Washington — Indian  work,  with  him  as 
leader.  The  regulars  from  the  fort  got  after  them, 
there  was  an  ugly  fight,  and  the  reds  reported  Holly  as 
killed.  That  is  the  last  I  heard  of  him.  You  were  ask- 
ing me  yesterday  if  he  ever  prospected  in  our  valley, 
didn't  you?"  he  asked,  turning  to  Harris. 

"A  man  made  undue  importance  of  by  the  stupid  In- 
dians," declared  Captain  Leek.  "He  humored  their  super- 
stitions and  played  medicine  man  with  them,  I've  heard; 
and  he  had  a  boy  for  a  partner — a  young  slip  the  gamblers 
called  'Monte'  down  in  Coeur  d'Al£ne.  Some  said  it  was 
his  son." 

"A  fine  instructor  for  youth,"  observed  Lyster.  "Who 
could  expect  anything  but  vice  from  a  man  who  had  such 
a  boyhood?" 

"But  you  would,"  said  'Tana,  suddenly,  "if  you  knew 
that  boy  when  he  grew  to  be  a  man.  If  he  was  bad,  you'd 
want  him  to  get  off  the  earth  where  you  walked;  and 
you  never  once  would  stop  to  ask  if  he  was  brought  up 
right  or  not — you  know  you  wouldn't — nobody  does,  I 
guess.  I  don't  know  why  it  is,  but  it  seems  all  wrong  to 
me.  Maybe,  though,  when  I  go  to  school,  and  learn 
things,  I  will  think  like  the  rest,  and  not  care." 

Lyster  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  looked  after  her 


THE  STRANGER'S  WARNING  12T 

as  she  vanished  into  the  regions  where  Mrs.  Huzzard 
was  concocting  dishes  for  the  mid-day  meal. 

"I  doubt  if  she  thinks  like  the  rest,"  he  remarked. 
"How  fiery  she  is,  and  how  independent  in  her  views  of 
things." 

But  Overton  smiled  at  her  curt  speech. 

"Poor  'Tana  has  lived  among  rough  scenes  until  she 
learns  to  judge  quickly,  and  for  herself,"  he  said.  "Her 
words  are  true  enough,  too;  she  may  have  known  just 
such  boys  as  Holly's  clever  little  partner  and  seen  how 
hard  it  was  for  them  to  be  any  good.  I  wonder  now  what 
has  become  of  young  'Monte'  since  Holly  disappeared. 
He  would  be  a  good  one  to  follow,  if  there  is  doubt  as 
to  Holly's  death  being  a  fact.  I  believe  there  was  a  re- 
ward out  for  him  some  time  ago,  to  stimulate  lagging 
justice.  Don't  know  if  it's  withdrawn  or  not." 

"Square,"  decided  Harris,  in  silent  communion  with 
himself,  as  he  surveyed  Overton;  "dead  square,  and 
don't  scent  the  trail.  I'd  like  to  know  what  their  little 
game  is  with  him.  Some  devilment,  sure." 

On  one  pretext  and  another  he  kept  close  to  Overton. 
He  was  studying  the  stalwart,  easy-going  keeper  of  the 
peace,  and  Dan,  who  had  a  sort  of  compassion  for  all 
who  were  halt,  or  blind,  or  homeless,  took  kindly  enough 
to  the  semi-paralyzed  stranger.  Harris  seemed  to  be- 
long nowhere  in  particular,  yet  knew  each  trail  of  the 
Kootenai  and  Columbia  country,  knew  each  drift  where 
the  yellow  sands  were  found — each  mine  where  the  silver 
hunt  paid  best  returns. 

"You've  prospected  some,  I  see,  even  if  you  don't  get 
over  the  ground  very  fast,"  Dan  remarked ;  "and  with  it 
all,  I  reckon  you've  staked  out  some  pay  claims  for  your- 
self?" 


128  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

The  face  of  Harris  contracted  in  a  swift  frown;  he 
drew  a  long  breath,  and  his  clasped  hands  tightened  on 
each  other. 

"I  did,"  he  said,  in  a  choked,  nervous  sort  of  way;  "I 
did.  If  I  could  tell  you  of  it,  I  would.  You're  the  sort 
.of  man  I'd —  But  never  mind.  I'm  not  well  yet — not 
strong  enough  to  get  excited  over  it.  I've  got  to  take 
things  easy  for  a  spell,  or  another  stroke  of  this  paralysis 
will  come  as  my  share.  That  handicaps  me  considerable. 
I  was — was  upset  by  something  unexpected  last  night, 
and  I've  had  a  queer,  shaky  feeling  ever  since ;  can't  ar- 
ticulate clear.  Did  you  notice?  The — the  only  thing 
under  God's  heaven  I'm  afraid  of  is  that  paralysis — that 
it  will  catch  me  again  before  I  get  my  work  done ;  and 
to-day—" 

"Don't  talk  of  it,"  advised  Overton,  as  he  noticed  how 
the  man's  voice  hesitated  and  trembled,  how  excitable  he 
was  over  the  subject  of  his  mineral  finds  and  his  threat- 
ened helplessness.  "Don't  think  of  it,  and  you'll  come 
out  all  right  yet.  If  I  can  do  anything  for  you — " 

The  other  man  laughed  in  a  spasmodic,  contemptuous 
fashion. 

"For  me  ?"  he  said.  "You  can't.  I  thought  you  could, 
but  I  was  on  a  blind  trail — you  can't.  I  can  give  you  a 
lift,  though — yes,  I  can.  It's  about — about  that  girl. 
You — you  tried  to  guard  her  last  night,  as  if  she  was  a 
flower  the  rough  wind  must  not  blow  on.  I  know — I 
watched  you.  I've  been  there,  and  know." 

"Know  what?  You're  an  infernal  fool!"  burst  out 
Dan,  with  all  his  good  nature  out  of  sight.  "No  hints 
about  the  girl,  or — or  anything  else !  I  won't  have  it !" 

"It's  no  hint;  facts  are  all  I'd  mention  to  you,  and  I'd 
do  that  just  because  I  think  you're  square.  And  they — 


THE  STRANGER'S  WARNING  129 

they  are  playing  you.  See?  For  he  ain't  dead.  I  don't 
know  what  their  game  is  with  you,  but  he  ain't  dead ;  and 
there — there's  no  telling  what  scheme  he's  got  her  into 
this — this  territory  for.  So  I  want  you  to  know.  I  don't 
want  you  to  be  caught  in  any  trap  of  theirs.  She — she 
looks  all  right ;  but  he's  a  devil — a  thing  infernal — a — " 

Overton  caught  him  by  one  arm,  and  swung  him  around 
like  a  child. 

"Speak  clear.  No  more  of  your  blasted  stuttering  or 
beating  away  from  points ;  who  is  the  man  you  talk  of  ? 
Who  is  playing  with  me?  Now  speak." 

"Why,  Monte,  the  girl ;  Monte  and  Lee  Holly.  He's- 
somewhere  alive — that's  what  I'm  trying  to  tell  you.  I 
was  hunting  for  him  when  I  found  her  laying  low  here,, 
don't  you  understand?  You  stare  so.  It  is  Lee  Holly 
and—  Ah— my— God!" 

The  last  words  were  gurgled  in  his  throat;  his  face 
whitened,  and  he  sank  to  the  ground  as  though  his  bones 
had  suddenly  been  converted  into  jelly — a  strange,  shape- 
less heap  of  humanity  as  he  lay  at  Overton's  feet.  Over- 
ton  bent  over  him,  and  after  a  moment  of  blank  amaze, 
lifted  the  helpless  head,  and  almost  dropped  it  again 
when  the  eyes,  appealing  and  keenly  conscious,  met  his 
own.  There  was  a  queer  chuckling  sound  in  the  man's 
throat ;  he  was  trying  to  speak,  but  could  not.  The  secret 
he  was  trying  to  tell  was  buried  back  of  those  speechless, 
lips,  and  one  more  stroke  of  the  doom  he  feared  had 
overtaken  him. 


130  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  STRANGER'S  LOVE  STORY. 

'Tana  sat  alone  in  her  room  a  few  hours  later,  and 
from  the  window  watched  the  form  of  Ora  Harrison  dis- 
appear along  the  street.  The  latter  had  been  sent  by 
her  father  with  some  medicine  for  the  paralyzed  stranger, 
and  the  girls  had  chatted  of  the  school  'Tana  was  to  at- 
tend, and  of  the  schools  Ora  had  gone  to  and  all  the 
friends  she  remembered  there,  who  now  sent  her  such 
kind  letters.  Ora  told  'Tana  of  the  lovely  time  she  ex- 
pected to  have  when  the  steamers  would  come  up  from 
Bonner's  Ferry  to  the  Kootenai  Lake  region,  for  then  her 
friends  were  to  come  in  the  summers,  and  the  warm 
months  were  to  be  like  holidays. 

All  this  girlish  frankness,  all  the  cheery  friendship 
of  the  doctor's  family  filled  'Tana  with  a  wild  unrest 
against  herself — against  the  world. 

"It  would  be  easy  to  be  good  if  a  person  lived  like  that 
always,"  she  thought,  "in  a  nice  home,  with  a  mother  to 
kiss  me  and  a  father  I  was  not  ashamed  of.  I  felt  stupid 
when  they  talked  to  me.  I  could  only  think  how  happy 
they  were,  and  that  they  did  not  seem  to  know  it.  And 
Ora  was  sweet  and  sorry  for  me  because  my  parents  were 
dead.  Huh !"  she  grunted,  disdainfully,  in  the  Indian 
fashion  peculiar  to  her  at  times.  "If  she  knew  how  I  felt 
about  it  she'd  hate  me,  I  suppose.  They'd  all  think  I  was 
bad  clear  through.  They  wouldn't  understand  the  reason 


THE  STRANGER'S  LOVE  STORY    131 

— no  nice  women  like  them  could.  Oh,  if  the  school 
would  only  make  me  nice  like  that !  But  I  suppose  it's 
got  to  be  born  in  people,  and  I  was  born  different." 

Even  this  reason  did  not  render  her  more  resigned; 
and,  to  add  to  her  disquiet,  there  came  to  her  the  mem- 
ory of  eyes  whose  gaze  made  her  shiver — the  eyes  of  the 
stranger  whom  Overton  had  carried  into  the  house  for 
dead,  but  whose  brain  was  yet  alive.  He  had  looked  at 
her  with  a  strange,  wild  stare,  and  Overton  himself  had 
turned  his  eyes  toward  her  in  moody  questioning  when 
she  came  forward  to  help.  He  had  accepted  the  help, 
but  each  time  she  raised  her  eyes  she  saw  that  Dan  was 
looking  at  her  with  a  new  watchfulness ;  all  his  interest 
in  the  stricken  stranger  did  not  keep  him  from  that. 

"If  any  one  is  accountable  for  this,  I  guess  I'm  the 
man,"  he  confessed,  ruefully.  "He  told  me  he  was  afraid 
of  this,  yet  I  was  fool  enough  to  lose  my  temper  and 
turn  him  around  rough.  It  might  have  struck  him,  any- 
way ;  but  my  conscience  doesn't  let  me  down  easy.  He'll 
be  my  care  till  some  one  comes  along  with  a  stronger 
claim." 

"Maybe  there  is  some  one  somewhere,"  said  'Tana. 
"There  might  be  letters,  if  it  would  be  right  to  look." 

"If  there  are  relatives  anywhere  in  the  settlements, 
I  guess  they'd  be  glad  enough  if  I'd  look,"  decided  Over- 
ton.  "There  is  no  way  to  get  permission  from  him, 
though,"  and  he  looked  in  the  helpless  man's  eyes.  "I 
don't  know  what  you'd  say  to  this  if  you  could  speak, 
stranger,"  he  said ;  "but  to  go  through  your  pockets  seems 
the  only  way  to  locate  you  or  your  friends ;  so  I'll  have  to 
do  it." 

It  was  not  easy  to  do,  with  those  eyes  staring  at  him 
in  that  horrible  way.  But  he  tried  to  avoid  the  eyes,  and 


132  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

thrust  his  hand  into  the  inner  pocket,  drawing  out  an 
ordinary  notebook,  some  scraps  of  newspaper  folded  up 
in  it,  and  two  letters  addressed  to  Joe  Hammond ;  one  to 
Little  Dalles,  and  the  other  had  evidently  been  delivered 
by  a  messenger,  for  no  destination  was  marked  on  it.  It 
was  an  old  letter  and  the  envelope  was  worn  through  all 
around  the  edges.  Another  paper  was  wrapped  around 
it,  and  the  writing  was  of  a  light  feminine  character. 
Overton  touched  it  with  a  certain  reverence  and  looked 
embarrassed. 

"I  think,  Mrs.  Huzzard,  I  will  ask  you  to  read  this, 
as  it  seems  a  lady's  letter,  and  if  there  is  any  information 
in  it,  you  can  give  it  to  us;  if  not,  I'll  just  put  it  back  in 
his  pocket  and  hope  luck  will  tell  us  what  the  letter 
doesn't." 

But  Mrs.  Huzzard  demurred :  "And  me  that  short- 
sighted that  even  specs  won't  cure  it !  No,  indeed.  I'm 
no  one  to  read  important  papers.  But  here's  'Tana,  with 
eyes  like  a  hawk  for  sighting  things.  She'll  read  it  fast 
enough." 

Overton  looked  undecided,  remembering  those  strange 
insinuations  of  the  now  helpless  man,  and  feeling  that 
the  man  himself  might  not  be  willing. 

"I — well — I  guess  not,"  he  said,  at  last.  "It  ain't  just 
square  to  send  a  little  girl  blindfold  like  that  into  a 
stranger's  claim.  We'll  let  some  one  over  twenty-one 
read  the  letters.  You'll  do,  Max,  and  if  it  ain't  all  right, 
you  can  stop  up  short. " 

So  Lyster  read  the  treasured  message,  all  in  the  same 
feminine  writing.  His  sensitive  face  grew  grave,  and 
he  turned  compassionate  glances  toward  the  helpless  man 
as  he  read  the  letters,  according  to  their  dates.  The 


THE  STRANGER'S  LOVE  STORY    133 

oldest  one  was  the  only  one  not  sad.    Its  postmark  was  a 
little  town  many  miles  to  the  south. 

"DEAR  OLD  JOE:  It's  awful  to  be  this  near  you,  and 
know  you  are  sick,  without  being  able  to  get  to  you.  I 
just  arrived,  and  your  partner  has  met  me,  and  told  me 
all  about  it.  But  I'll  go  up  with  him,  just  the  same;  and 
when  you  are  able  to  travel  we  can  come  down  to  a  town 
and  be  married,  instead  of  to-day,  as  we  had  set  on.  So 
that's  all  right,  and  don't  you  worry.  Your  partner, 
John  Ingalls,  is  as  nice  as  he  can  be  to  me.  Why  did 
you  not  tell  me  how  good  looking  he  was?  Maybe  you 
never  discovered  it — you  slow,  prosy  old  Joe !  When 
you  wrote  to  me  of  that  rich  find  you  stumbled  on,  I  was 
sorry  you  had  picked  up  a  partner;  for  you  always  did 
trust  folks  too  much,  and  I  was  afraid  you'd  be  cheated 
by  the  stranger  you  picked  up.  But  I  guess  that  I  was 
wrong,  Joe;  for  he  is  a  very  nice  gentleman — the  nicest 
I  ever  met,  I  think.  And  he  talks  about  you  just  as  if 
he  was  your  brother,  and  thought  a  heap  of  you.  He 
tried  to  tease  me  some,  too — asked  how  you  ever  came  to- 
catch  such  a  pretty  girl  as  me!  Then  I  told  him,  Joe, 
that  you  never  had  to  catch  me — that  I  was  little,  and 
hadn't  any  folks,  and  how  you  got  your  folks  to  give  me  a 
home  when  you  was  only  a  boy ;  and  that  you  was  al- 
ways like  a  big  brother  to  me  till  you  made  some  money 
in  the  mines.  Then  you  wrote  and  asked  me  to  come  out 
and  marry  you.  He  just  laughed,  Joe,  and  said  it  was  not 
a  brother's  love  that  a  wife  wanted ;  but  I  don't  think  he 
knows  anything  about  that — do  .you?  And,  Joe,  I  came 
pretty  near  telling  him  all  about  that  richest  find  you 
made — the  one  you  said  you  wanted  me  to  be  the  first  to 
see.  I  thought,  of  course,  you  had  told  your  partner, 
just  as  you  told  me  when  you  sent  me  the  plan  of  it — 
what  for,  I  don't  know,  Joe,  for  I  never  could  find  it  in 
the  wide  world,  even  if  there  was  any  chance  of  my  hunt- 
ing for  it  alone.  Your  partner  asked  me  point  blank  if 
you  had  written  to  me  of  any  late  find  of  yours,  or  of  any 
special  location  where  you  found  good  signs.  I  tried  to 


134:  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

look  innocent,  and  said  maybe  you  had,  but  I  couldn't  re- 
member. I  didn't  like  to  tell  a  story.  I  wanted  to  tell 
him  all  the  truth,  and  how  rich  you  said  we  would  be\ 
I  knew  you  would  want  to  tell  him  yourself,  so  I  managed 
to  keep  quiet  in  time.  But  whenever  he  looks  at  me  I  feel 
guilty.  And  he  looks  at  me  so  kindly,  and  he  is  so  good. 
He  says  we  can't  begin  our  journey  to  you  right  away, 
because  he  has  provisions  and  things  to  get  first;  but  we 
will  set  out  in  three  days.  So  I  send  this  letter  that  you 
will  know  I  am  on  the  road ;  maybe  we'll  reach  you  first. 
He  is  going  to  take  me  riding  around  this  camp  this 
evening — I  mean  Mr.  Ingalls.  He  says  I  must  get  some 
enjoyment  before  I  go  up  there  to  the  mountains,  where 
no  one  lives.  He  is  the  nicest  stranger  I  ever  met.  But, 
of  course,  I  never  was  away  from  home  much  to  meet 
folks ;  I  guess,  though,  I  might  travel  a  long  ways  and  not 
meet  any  one  so  nice.  He  just  brought  me  a  pretty  purse 
made  by  the  Indians.  I  hope  you  wear  a  big  hat  like  he 
does,  and  big,  high  boots.  I  never  saw  folks  wear  them 
back  home;  but  they  do  look  nice.  Now,  good-by,  Joe, 
for  a  few  days.  Yours  affectionately,  FANNIE." 

"Well,  that  letter  is  plain  sailing,"  remarked  Overton, 
"but  there  is  only  one  name  in  it  we  could  follow  up — 
the  partner,  John  Ingalls.  But  I  don't  think  I've  heard  of 
him." 

"Wait!  there  is  another  letter — two  more,"  said  Lys- 
ter ;  and  the  others  were  silent  as  he  read : 

"JoE:  I  hope  you'll  hate  me  now.  I  can  stand  that 
better  than  to  know  you  still  like  me.  I  can't  help  it.  I 
am  going  with  him — your  partner.  He  loves  me,  too, 
Joe — not  in  the  brotherly  way  you  did,  but  in  a  way  that 
makes  me  think  of  him  and  no  one  else.  So  I  can't  marry 
any  one  but  him.  Maybe  it's  a  sin  to  be  false  to  you,  Joe ; 
but  I  never  could  go  to  you  now.  And  I  can't  help  go- 
ing where  he  wants  me  to  go.  Don't  be  mad  at  him; 
he  can't  help  it  either,  I  suppose.  He  says  he  will  always 
be  good  to  me,  and  I  am  going.  But  my  heart  is  heavy 


THE  STRANGER'S  LOVE  STORY    135 

as  I  write  to  you.    I  am  not  happy — maybe  because  I  love 
him  too  much.    But  I  am  going.    Try  and  forget  me. 

"FANNIE." 

In  dead  silence  Lyster  unfolded  the  third  paper.  The 
drama  of  this  stranger's  life  was  a  pathetic  thing  to  the 
listeners,  who  looked  at  him  with  pity  in  their  eyes,  but 
could  utter  no  words  of  sympathy  to  the  man  who  sat 
there  helpless  and  looked  at  them.  Then  the  last,  a  pen- 
ciled sheet,  was  read. 

"Jos:  I  am  dying,  I  think.  The  Indian  woman  with 
me  says  so ;  and  I  hope  it  is  true.  He  came  to  me  to-day 
— the  first  time  in  weeks.  He  never  married  me,  as  he 
promised.  He  cursed  me  to-day  because  my  baby  face 
led  him  away  from  a  fortune  he  knows  you  found.  I 
never  told  him,  though  it  is  a  wonder.  All  he  knows  of 
it  he  heard  you  say  in  your  sleep  when  you  were  sick  that 
time.  To-day  he  told  me  you  were  paralyzed,  Joe — that 
you  are  helpless  still — that  he  has  taken  Indians  with 
him  there  to  your  old  claim,  and  searched  every  foot  of 
ground  for  the  gold  vein  he  thinks  you  know  of.  But  it 
is  of  no  use,  and  he  is  furious  over  it,  and  so  taunts  me 
of  your  helplessness  alone  in  the  wilderness. 

"Joe,  I  still  have  the  plan  you  made  of  the  river  and 
the  two  little  streams  and  the  marked  tree.  Can't  I 
make  amends  some  way  for  the  wrong  I  did  you?  Is 
there  anywhere  a  friend  you  could  trust  to  work  the  find 
and  take  care  of  you?  For  if  you  are  too  helpless  to 
write  yourself,  and  can  get  only  the  name  of  the  person 
to  me,  I  will  send  the  plan  some  way  to  him.  I  know  I 
am  not  to  live  long.  I  am  in  a  perfect  fever  to  hear  from 
you,  and  tell  you  that  my  sin  against  you  weighs  me  down 
to  despair. 

"I  can't  tell  you  of  my  life  with  him ;  it  is  too  horrible. 
I  do  not  even  know  who  he  is,  for  Ingalls  is  not  his  name. 
We  are  with  Indians  and  they  call  him  'Medicine/  and 
seem  to  know  him  well.  He  has  left  me  here,  to-day, 
and  I  feel  I  will  never  see  him  again.  He  tells  me  he 


136  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

has  sent  for  a  young  white  boy  who  is  to  be  brought  to 
camp,  and  who  will  help  care  for  me.  Anything  would 
be  better  than  the  sly  red  faces  about  me;  they  fill  me 
with  terror.  My  one  hope  is  that  the  boy  may  get  this 
letter  sent  to  you,  and  that  some  word  may  come  to  me 
from  you  before  my  life  ends.  It  has  taken  me  all  this 
day  to  write  to  you. 

"Good-by.  I  am  dying  miserably,  and  I  deserve  it.  J 
can't  even  tell  you  where  to  write  me ;  only  we  are  with 
Indians  camped  by  a  big  river.  Not  far  away  is  a  wall 
of  rock,  like  a  hill,  beside  the  river,  and  Indian  writing 
is  cut  on  the  wall,  and  holes  and  things  are  cut  all  along 
it." 

"The  Arrow  lakes  of  the  Columbia !"  interrupted  Over- 
ton — 

"If  the  boy  comes,  and  is  to  be  trusted  at  all,  he  may 
tell  me  more ;  that  is  my  only  hope  of  this  reaching  you. 
If  you  are  not  able  to  make  another  plan  (and  he  says 
your  hands  are  powerless)  remember,  I  have  the  one 
you  did  make.  If  you  can  send  me  one  word — one  name 
of  a  friend — I  will  try — try  so  hard.  He  would  kill  me 
if  he  knew,  and  I  would  be  glad  of  it,  if  I  could  only  help 
you  first.  I  feel  that  I  will  never  see  you  again. 

"FANNIE." 

Mrs.  Huzzard  was  crying  and  whispering,  "Poor  dear ! 
— poor  child!"  and  even  the  voice  of  Lyster  was  not 
quite  steady  as  he  read.  Those  straggling,  weak  pencil 
marks  had  a  pathos  of  their  own  to  him.  The  letter, 
crossed  and  recrossed  by  the  lines,  was  on  two  pages, 
evidently  torn  from  the  back  of  a  book. 

"It  seems  a  sacrilege  to  dive  into  a  man's  feelings  and 
secrets  like  this,"  he  said,  ruefully.  "It  is!  My  only  con- 
solation is  that  I  did  it  with  good  intent." 

"And,  after  all,  not  a  plain  trail  found  that  will  help 
us  locate  this  man  or  his  friends,"  decided  Overton — "not 
a  name  we  can  really  fasten  to  but  the  name  on  the  en- 


THE  STRANGER'S  LOVE  STORY    137 

vclope — Joe  Hammond.  It  is  too  bad.  Why,  'Tana! 
Good  God!  'Tana!" 

For  the  girl,  who  had  uttered  no  word,  but  had  listened 
to  that  last  letter  with  whitened  face  and  staring  eyes, 
leaned  against  the  wall  at  its  close,  and  a  little  gasp 
from  her  drew  their  attention. 

She  fell  forward  on  her  face  ere  Overton  could  reach 
her. 

"'Tana,  my  girl,  what  is  it  ?    Speak !"  he  entreated. 

But  the  girl  only  whispered:  "I  know  now!  Joe — 
Joe  Hammond !"  and  fainted  dead  away  at  the  feet  of  the 
paralyzed  man. 


138  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 


CHAPTER  XL 
"TANA  AND  JOE. 

"Just  like  a  part  in  a  play,  captain — that's  just  the  way 
it  struck  me,"  said  Mrs.  Huzzard,  recounting  the  affair 
for  the  benefit  of  the  postmaster  of  Sinna  Ferry.  "The 
man  a-sitting  there  like  a  statue,  with  only  his  eyes  look- 
ing alive,  and  that  poor,  scared  dear  a-falling  down  on 
the  floor  beside  him,  and  looking  as  white  as  milk!  I 
never  had  a  notion  she  was  so  easy  touched  by  people's 
troubles.  It  surely  was  a  sorry  story  read  from  them 
three  letters.  I  tell  you,  sir,  men  leave  women  with 
aching  hearts  many's  the  time,"  and  she  glanced  senti- 
mentally toward  her  listener;  "though  if  there  is  one 
place  more  heart-rending  to  be  deserted  in  than  another,  I 
think  an  Indian  village  would  be  the  very  worst.  Just 
to  think  of  that  poor  dear  dying  there  in  a  place  she  didn't 
even  know  the  name  of." 

"Humph !  I've  an  idea  you  are  giving  your  sympathy 
to  the  wrong  individual,"  decided  the  captain.  "It  must 
be  easier  even  to  die  in  some  unknown  corner  than  for 
a  living  soul  to  be  shut  up  in  a  dead  body,  after  the  man- 
ner of  this  Harris,  or  Hammond,  or  whatever  his  name 
is.  I  guess,  from  the  looks  of  things,  he  must  have  col- 
lapsed when  that  second  letter  reached  him;  had  a  bad 
stroke,  and  was  just  recovering  somewhat  when  he 
strayed  into  this  camp.  Yes,  madame,  I've  an  idea  he's 


TANA  AND  JOE  139 

had  a  harder  row  to  hoe  than  the  girl;  and,  then,  it 
doesn't  look  as  though  he'd  deserved  it  so  much." 

"Mr.  Dan  is  mightily  upset  over  it,  ain't  he?" 

"Mr.  Dan  is  just  as  likely  to  get  upset  over  any  other 
vagabond  who  strays  in  his  direction,"  grumbled  the 
captain.  "Folks  are  always  falling  in  his  way  to  be 
looked  after.  He  has  the  worst  luck!  He  never  did  a 
bit  of  harm  to  this  stranger — nothing  but  drop  a  hand 
on  his  shoulder;  and  all  at  once  the  man  falls  down 
helpless.  And  Dan  feels  in  duty  bound  to  take  care  of 
him.  Then  the  girl  'Tana  has  to  flop  over  in  the  same 
way,  just  when  I  thought  we  were  to  get  rid  of  her. 
And  she's  another  charge  to  look  after.  He'll  be  want- 
ing to  hire  your  house  for  a  hospital  next  thing,  Mrs. 
Huzzard." 

"And  welcome  he'd  be  to  it  for  'Tana,"  declared  Mrs. 
Huzzard,  valiantly.  "She's  been  a  bit  saucy  to  you  at 
times,  and  I  know  it;  but,  indeed,  it's  only  because  she 
fancies  you  don't  like  her." 

"Like  her,  madame !  A  girl  who  plays  poker,  and — 
and—" 

"And  wins,"  added  Mrs.  Huzzard,  with  a  twinkle  in 
her  eyes.  "Ah,  now,  didn't  Mr.  Max  tell  me  the  whole 
story!  She  is  a  clip,  and  I  know  it;  but  I  think  she 
only  meant  that  game  as  a  bit  of  a  joke." 

"A  twenty-dollar  joke,  Mrs.  Huzzard,  is  too  expensive 
to  be  funny,"  growled  the  captain,  with  natural  discon- 
tent. "But  if  I  could  only  convince  myself  that  the  money 
was  honestly  won,  I  would  not  feel  so  annoyed  over  it; 
but  I  can't — no,  madame.  I  am  confident  there  was  a 
trick  in  that  game — some  gambler's  trick  she  has  picked 
up  among  her  promiscuous  acquaintances.  And  I  am 
annoyed — more  than  ever  annoyed  now  that  there  is  a 


UO  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

chance  of  her  remaining  longer  under  Dan's  care.  She's 
a  dangerous  prot$g£e  for  a  boy  of  his  age,  that's  all." 

"Dangerous!  Oh,  now,  I've  my  doubts  of  that,"  said 
Mrs.  Huzzard,  shaking  her  head,  emphatically.  "You 
take  my  word  for  it,  if  she's  dangerous  as  a  girl  to  any 
one  in  this  camp,  it's  not  Mr.  Dan's  peace  of  mind  she's 
disturbing,  but  that  of  his  new  friend." 

"You  mean  Lyster?  Ridiculous!  A  gentleman  of 
culture,  used  to  the  best  society,  give  a  thought  to  such 
an  unclassed  individual?  No,  madame! — don't  you  be- 
lieve it.  His  interest  about  the  school  affair  was  doubt- 
less to  get  her  away  from  camp,  and  to  keep  her  from  be- 
ing a  responsibility  on  Dan's  hands." 

"Hum!  maybe.  But,  from  all  the  dances  he  danced 
with  her,  and  the  way  he  waited  on  her,  I'd  a  notion 
that  he  did  not  think  her  a  great  responsibility  at  all." 

This  conversation  occurred  the  morning  after  those 
letters  had  been  read.  The  owner  of  them  was  installed 
in  the  best  room  Mrs.  Huzzard  had  to  offer,  and  miners 
from  all  sections  were  cordially  invited  to  visit  the  para- 
lyzed man,  in  the  vain  hope  that  some  one  would  chance 
to  remember  his  face,  or  help  establish  the  lost  miner's 
identity ;  for  he  seemed  utterly  lost  from  all  record  of  his 
past — all  but  that  he  had  loved  a  girl  whom  an  unknown 
partner  had  stolen.  And  Overton  remembered  that  he 
seemed  especially  interested  in  the  whereabouts  of  the 
renegade,  Lee  Holly. 

The  unknown  Lee  Holly's  name  had  suddenly  attained 
the  importance  of  a  gruesome  ghost  to  Overton.  He  had 
stared  gloomily  at  the  paralytic,  as  though  striving  to 
glean  from  the  living  eyes  the  secrets  held  close  by  the 
silenced  lips.  'Tana  and  Monte  and  Lee  Holly ! — his 
little  girl  and  those  renegades !  Surely  these  persons 


TANA  AND  JOE 

could  have  nothing  to  do  with  each  other.  Harris  was 
looney — so  Overton  decided  as  he  stalked  back  and  forth 
beside  the  house,  glancing  up  once  in  a  while  to  a  win- 
dow above  him — a  window  where  he  hoped  to  see  'Tana's 
face ;  for  all  one  day  had  gone,  and  the  evening  come 
again,  yet  he  had  never  seen  her  since  he  had  lifted  her 
unconscious  form  from  beside  the  chair  of  Harris.  Her 
words,  "I  know  now!  Joe — Joe  Hammond!"  were  yet 
whispering  through  his  senses.  Did  those  words  mean 
anything?  or  was  the  child  simply  overwrought  by  that 
tragedy  told  in  the  letters  ?  He  did  not  imagine  she  would 
comprehend  all  the  sadness  of  it  until  she  had  fallen  in 
that  faint. 

The  night  he  had  talked  with  her  first  in  Akkomi's 
tepee,  and  afterward  in  the  morning  by  the  river,  he  had 
promised  to  be  satisfied  with  what  she  chose  to  tell  him 
of  herself,  and  ask  no  questions  of  her  past.  But  since 
the  insinuations  of  Harris  and  her  own  peculiar  words 
and  manner,  he  discovered  that  the  promise  was  not 
easy  to  keep — especially  when  Lyster  besieged  him  with 
questions ;  for  'Tana  had  spent  the  day  utterly  alone,  but 
for  the  ministrations  of  Mrs.  Huzzard.  She  would  not 
see  even  the  doctor,  as  she  said  she  was  not  sick.  She 
would  not  see  Overton,  Lyster,  or  any  one  else,  because 
she  said  she  did  not  want  to  talk;  she  was  tired,  and 
that  reason  must  suffice.  It  did  for  Lyster,  especially 
after  he  had  received  a  nod,  a  smile,  and  a  wave  of  her 
hand  from  her  window — a  circumstance  he  related  hope- 
fully to  Overton,  as  it  banished  the  lingering  fear  in  his 
mind  that  her  exile  was  one  caused  by  absolute  illness. 

"I  candidly  believe,  Dan,  that  she  is  simply  ashamed 
of  having  fainted  before  us  last  evening — fancies  it  looks 
weak,  I  suppose;  and  she  does  pride  herself  so  on  her 
10 


THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

ungirlish  strength.  I've  no  doubt  she  will  emerge  from 
her  seclusion  to-morrow  morning,  and  expect  us  to  ig- 
nore her  sentimental  swoon.  How  is  your  other  patient?" 

"Better." 

"Much?" 

"Well,  just  the  difference  of  turning  his  eyes  quickly 
toward  a  thing,  instead  of  slowly,  as  at  first.  The  doctor 
just  told  me  he  is  able  to  move  his  head  slightly,  so  I 
guess  he  is  not  to  go  under  this  trip.  But  he'll  never 
be  a  well  man  again." 

"Rather  heavy  on  you,  old  fellow,  that  you  feel  bound 
to  look  after  him.  I  can't  see  the  necessity  of  it.  Why 
don't  you  let  the  rest  of  the  camp — " 

But  Overton  had  turned  away  and  resumed  his  walk. 
Lyster  stared  at  him  in  wonder  for  a  moment  and  then 
laughed. 

"All  right,  Rothschild,"  he  observed.  "You  know  the 
depth  of  your  own  purse  best.  But,  to  tell  the  truth,  you 
don't  act  like  your  own  responsible  self  to-day.  You  go 
moping  around  as  though  the  other  fellow's  stroke  had 
touched  you,  too.  You  are  a  great  fellow,  Dan,  to  take 
other  people's  loads  on  your  shoulders;  but  it  is  a  bad 
habit,  and  you'd  better  reform." 

"I  will,  when  I  have  time,"  returned  Overton,  with  a 
grim  smile.  "Just  now  I  have  other  things  to  think  of. 
Don't  mind  me." 

"I  sha'n't.  I  confess  I  don't  mind  any  of  you  very 
much  since  I  saw  the  cheery  vision  of  your  prot$g$e  at 
the  window — and  waving  her  hand  to  me,  too;  the  first 
bit  of  sunshine  I've  seen  in  camp  to-day.  For  the  aver- 
age specimen  I've  run  across  has  looked  to  me  like  you 
— glum." 


'TANA  AND  JOE  143 

Receiving  no  reply  whatever  to  this  criticism,  he  strolled 
away  after  a  smiling  glance  upward  to  'Tana's  window. 
But  no  girlish  hand  waved  greeting  to  him  this  time,  and 
he  comforted  himself  by  humming,  "My  Love  is  but  a 
Lassie  Yet."  This  was  a  mischievous  endeavor  to  attract 
Overton's  attention  and  make  him  say  something,  even 
though  the  something  should  prove  uncomplimentary  to 
the  warbler. 

But  it  was  a  failure.  Overton  only  thrust  his  hands 
a  little  deeper  in  his  pockets  as  he  stared  after  the  hand- 
some, light-hearted  fellow.  Of  course,  it  would  be  Max 
to  whom  she  would  wave  her  hand ;  and  he  was  glad 
somebody  felt  like  singing,  though  he  himself  could  not. 
His  mind  was  too  much  tormented  by  the  thoughts  of 
those  two  who  formed  a  nucleus  for  the  hospital  already 
contemptuously  alluded  to  by  the  captain. 

And  those  two? 

One  sat  almost  motionless,  as  he  had  been  for  the 
twenty-four  hours.  But  as  Mrs.  Huzzard  and  the  cap- 
tain left  his  room,  each  spoke  hopefully  of  his  appear- 
ance. Mrs.  Huzzard  especially  was  very  confident  his 
face  showed  more  animation  than  she  had  observed  at 
her  noonday  visit;  and  the  fact  that  he  could  move  his 
head  and  nod  in  reply  to  questions  certainly  did  seem 
to  promise  recovery. 

In  the  adjoining  room,  close  to  the  very  thin  partition, 
'Tana  lay  with  ears  strained  to  catch  each  word  of 'the 
conversation.  But  when  her  door  was  opened  by  Mrs. 
Huzzard,  all  semblance  of  interest  was  gone,  and  she  lay 
on  the  little  bed  with  closed  eyes. 

"I'm  right  glad  she's  taking  a  nap  at  last,"  said  the  good 
soul  as  she  closed  the  door  softly.  "That  child  scarce 
slept  a  bit  all  night,  and  I  know  it.  Curious  how  nervous 


THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

she  got  over  that  man's  troubles.  But,  of  course,  he  did 
look  awful  at  first,  and  nigh  about  scared  me/' 

'Tana  lay  still  till  the  steps  died  away  on  the  stairs, 
and  the  voices  were  heard  more  faintly  on  the  lower 
floor.  All  the  day  she  had  waited  for  the  people  to  leave 
the  stranger  in  the  next  room  alone;  and,  for  the  first 
time,  no  voice  of  visitors  broke  the  silence  of  the  upper 
floor. 

She  slipped  to  the  door  and  listened.  Her  movements 
were  stealthy  as  that  of  some  forest  animal  evading  a 
hunter.  She  turned  the  knob  softly,  and  with  still  swift- 
ness was  inside  the  stranger's  room,  and  the  door  closed 
behind  her. 

He  certainly  was  more  alert,  for  his  eyes  met  hers 
instantly.  His  look  was  almost  one  of  fear,  and  she  was 
trembling  visibly. 

"I  had  to  come,"  she  said,  nervously,  in  a  half  whisper, 
"I  heard  the  letters  read,  and  I  have  to  tell  you  some- 
thing I've  thought  all  night — all  day — and  I  have  to  tell 
you.  Do  you  understand?  Try  to  understand.  Nod 
your  head  if  you  do.  Do  you  ?" 

Her  speech  was  rapid  and  impatient,  while  she 
listened  each  moment  lest  a  step  sound  on  the  stairs  again. 
But  in  all  her  eagerness  to  hear  she  never  looked  away 
from  his  face,  and  she  uttered  a  low  exclamation  of  glad- 
ness when  the  man's  head  bent  slowly  in  assent. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad — so  glad!  You  will  get  well;  you 
must!  Listen!  I  know  you  now,  and  why  you  looked 
at  me  so.  You  think  you  saw  me  up  at  Revelstoke — I 
think  I  remember  your  face  there — and  you  don't  trust 
me.  You  are  looking  for  that  man — the  man  that  took 
fier  away  from  you.  You  think  I  could  find  a  trail  to 
him;  but  you  are  wrong.  He  is  dead,  and  I  know  she  is 


'TANA  AND  JOE 

—I  know!  Your  name  was  the  last  word  she  said — 
'Joe.'  She  wanted  you  to  forgive  her,  and  not  cross 
his  path.  You  don't  believe  me,  perhaps;  but  it  is  all 
true.  I  went  to  the  camp  with — with  the  boy  she  wrote 
of.  She  talked  of  you  to  me.  I  had  word  to  give  you 
if  we  ever  met.  But  how  was  I  to  know  that  Jim  Harris 
was  the  man — -the  same  man?  Do  you  hear — do  you 
believe  me?" 

Those  burning  eyes — eyes  in  which  all  of  life  in  him 
seemed  concentrated — looked  out  on  her  from  the  pale, 
strange  face;  looked  on  her  until  her  own  cheeks  grew 
colorless,  for  there  was  something  awful  in  the  search- 
ing regard  of  the  man  who  was  but  half  alive. 

"Seel"  she  said,  and  slipped  from  her  belt  a  package 
in  which  paper  rustled,  "I've  had  that  plan  of  the  gold 
find  ever  since — since  she  died.  She  gave  it  to  me,  in* 
case  you  should  be — as  you  are,  and  no  one  to  look 
after  it  for  you.  Or,  if  you  should  go  under,  she  said,  I 
was  to  look  it  up.  And  I  started  to  look  it  up — yes,  I  did ; 
but  things  were  against  me,  and  I  let  it  go  for  a  while. 
But  now,  listen !  If  you  get  well,  it  means  money  must  do 
it.  See  ?  Dan  hasn't  very  much — not  enough  to  float  you 
long.  Now,  I've  thought  it  all  out.  You  give  up  the  no- 
tion of  looking  for  that  man,  who  wasn't  worth  a  shot  of 
powder  when  he  was  alive,  and  worth  less  now.  It's  that 
notion  that's  been  eating  the  life  out  of  you.  Oh,  I've 
thought  it  all  out!  Now  you  just  turn  honest  pros- 
pector, like  you  was  when  that  man  Ingalls  first  spotted 
you.  I'm  only  a  girl,  but  I'll  try  to  help  make  amends 
for  the  wrongs  he  did  you.  I'll  go  partners  with  you. 
Look !  here  is  the  plan ;  and  I'm  almost  sure  I  know 
where  the  two  little  streams  meet.  I've  thought  of  it 
a  heap;  but  the  face  of — of  that  dead  girl,  kept  me 


146  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

from  doing  anything  till  I  had  either  found  you  or  knew 
you  were  dead.  No  one  knows  I  have  the  plan — though 
he  would  have  cut  throats  for  it.  Now  do  you  trust 
me?" 

She  held  the  plan  up  so  he  could  see  it — a  queer 
puzzle  of  lines  and  dots;  but  a  glance  sufficed,  and  he 
turned  his  eyes  again  to  the  face  of  the  girl.  Her 
eagerness,  her  intensity,  awakened  him  to  trust  and 
sympathy.  He  looked  at  her  and  nodded  his  head. 

"Oh,  I  knew  you  would!"  she  breathed,  thankfully. 
"And  I'll  stand  by  you — you'll  see!  I've  wanted  a 
chance  like  this — a  chance  to  make  up  for  some  of  the 
devilment  he's  done  to  folks — and  some  he's  made  me 
help  at.  You  know  who  I  am,  but  none  of  the  rest  do 
— and  they  sha'n't.  I'm  a  new  girl  now.  I  want  to 
make  up  for  some  of  the  badness  that  has  been.  It's 
all  over;  but  sometimes  I  hate  the  blood  in  my  veins 
because — you  know!  And  if  I  can  only  do  some 
good—"  " 

She  paused,  for  the  eyes  of  the  paralyzed  man  had 
moved  from  her  face,  and  were  resting  on  something 
back  of  her. 

It  was  Overton !  He  entered  and  closed  the  door,  and 
stood  looking  doubtful  and  astonished,  while  'Tana,  rose 
to  her  feet  trembling  and  a  little  pale. 

"How  long — were  you  there?"  she  demanded,  angrily. 

He  looked  at  her  very  steadily  before  making  reply 
— such  a  curious,  searching  look  that  she  moved  uneasily 
because  of  it;  but  her  face  remained  defiant. 

"I  just  now  opened  the  door,"  he  said  at  last,  speak- 
ing in  a  slow,  deliberate  way.  "I  slipped  here  as  quietly 
as  I  could,  because  they  told  me  you  were  asleep,  and  I 
must  not  make  a  noise.  I  got  here  just  as  you  were 


TANA  AND  JOE  147 

telling  this  man  that  no  one  but  him  should  know  who 
you  were  before  you  came  among  us — that  is  all,  I 
guess." 

She  had  sat  down  on  a  seat  close  to  Harris,  and 
dropped  her  face  in  her  hands. 

Overton  stood  with  his  back  against  the  door,  look- 
ing down  at  her.  In  his  eyes  was  a  keen  sorrow  as  she 
sat  down  in  that  despairing  fashion,  and  crept  close  to 
the  stranger  as  though  for  refuge  from  him. 

"I  might  have  avoided  telling  what  I  heard,"  he  con- 
tinued; "but  I  don't  think  that  would  be  quite  square 
among  friends.  Then,  as  I  see  you  have  found  a  new 
acquaintance  here,  I  thought  maybe  you  would  have 
something  to  tell  me  if  you  knew  what  I  heard  you  say 
to  him." 

But,  kindly  as  his  words  were,  she  seemed  to  shrink 
from  them. 

"No;  I  can't.  Oh,  Mr.  Dan,  I  can't— I  can't,"  she 
muttered,  with  her  head  still  bowed  on  the  arm  of  the 
chair  occupied  by  Harris.  "If  you  can't  trust  me  any 
more,  I  can't  blame  you.  But  I  can't  tell  you — that's 
all." 

"Then  I'll  just  go  down  stairs  again,"  he  decided, 
"and  you  can  finish  your  talk  with  Harris.  I'll  keep 
the  rest  of  the  folks  from  interrupting  you  as  I  did.  But 
if  you  want  me,  little  girl,  you  know  I'll  not  be  far 
away." 

The  tears  came  in  her  eyes.  His  persistent  kindness 
to  her  made  her  both  ashamed  and  glad,  and  she  reached 
out  her  hand. 

"Wait,"  she  said,  "maybe  I  have  something  to  tell 
you,"  and  she  unfolded  the  paper  again  and  showed  it 
to  Harris. 


148  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"Shall  I  tell  him?  Would  you  rather  he  would  be 
the  man  to  do  the  business?"  she  asked.  "You  know 
I'm  willing,  but  I  don't  know  enough  myself.  Do  you 
want  him  to  be  the  man  ?" 

Harris  nodded  his  head. 

With  a  look  of  relief  on  her  face,  she  turned  to  Over- 
ton,  who  watched  them  wonderingly. 

"What  sort  of  man  is  it  you  want?  or  what  is  it  you 
want  to  tell  me?" 

"Only  that  I've  found  a  plan  of  the  ground  where 
he  made  that  rich  find  the  letter  told  of,"  she  answered, 
with  a  bit  of  a  tremble  in  her  voice.  "He's  never  been 
able  to  look  after  it  himself,  and  was  afraid  to  trust 
any  one.  But  now — " 

"And  you  have  the  plan — you,  Tana?" 

"Yes,  I  have  it.  I  think  I  even  know  where  the  place 
is  located.  But — don't  ask  me  anything  about  how  I 
got  the  plan.  He  knows,  and  is  satisfied — that  is  all." 

"But,  'Tana,  I  don't  understand.  You  are  giving  me 
surprises  too  thick  this  evening.  If  he  has  found  a  rich 
yield  of  ore,  and  has  taken  you  into  partnership,  it 
means  that  you  will  be  a  rich  woman.  A  streak  of  pay 
ore  can  do  more  for  you  than  a  ranger  like  myself;  so 
I  guess  you  can  afford  to  drop  me." 

Her  face  fell  forward  in  her  hands  again.  The  man 
in  the  chair  looked  at  her  and  then  turned  his  eyes  plead- 
ingly to  the  other  man,  who  remained  standing  close 
to  the  door. 

Overton  recognized  the  pleading  quality  of  the  glance, 
and  was  filled  with  amazement  by  it.  Witchery  seemed 
to  have  touched  the  stranger  when  paralysis  touched 
him,  else  he  would  not  so  quickly  have  changed  from 
his  suspicion  of  the  girl  into  that  mute  pleading  for  her. 


TANA  AND  JOE 

She  was  trying  so  hard  to  keep  back  the  tears,  and  in 
the  effort  her  jaws  were  set  and  her  brows  drawn  to- 
gether stormify.  She  looked  to  him  as  she  had  looked 
in  the  lodge  of  Akkomi. 

"You  don't  trust  me,"  she  said  at  last;  "that's  why 
you  won't  help  us.  But  you  ought  to,  for  I've  never  lied 
to  you.  If  it's  because  I'm  in  it  that  you  won't  have 
anything  to  do  with  the  mine,  I'll  leave.  I  won't  bother 
you  about  that  school.  I  won't  bother  you  about  any- 
thing. I'll  help  locate  the  place  if — if  Joe  here  is  will- 
ing; and  then  you  two  can  be  partners,  and  I'll  be  out 
of  it,  for  I  can  trust  you  to  take  care  of  him,  and  see 
that  the  money  does  what  it  can  for  him.  I  can  trust 
you  if  you  can't  me.  So  you  are  the  one  to  speak  up. 
.What  is  your  answer?" 


150  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 


CHAPTER  XII. 

PARTNERS. 

"Well,  I've  been  a  'hoodoo'  all  my,  life;  and  if  I  only 
lead  some  one  into  luck  now — good  luck — oh,  wouldn't 
I  learn  a  sun-dance,  and  dance  it!" 

The  world  was  two  weeks  older,  and  it  was  'Tana 
who  spoke;  not  the  troubled  'Tana  who  had  crouched 
beside  the  paralytic  and  cowered  under  her  fear  of  Over- 
ton's  distrust,  but  a  girl  grown  lighter-hearted  by  the 
help  of  work  to  be  done — work  in  which  she  was  for 
once  to  stand  side  by  side  with  Overton  himself,  for  his 
decision  about  the  prospecting  had  been  in  her  favor. 
He  had  "spoken  up,"  as  she  had  asked  him  to  do,  and 
a  curious  three-cornered  partnership  had  been  arranged 
the  next  day;  a  very  mysterious  partnership,  of  which 
no  word  was  told  to  any  one.  Only  'Tana  suddenly  de- 
cided that  the  schooling  must  wait  a  little  longer.  Lyster 
would  have  to  make  the  trip  to  Helena  without  her; 
she  was  not  feeling  like  it  just  then,  and  so  forth. 

Therefore,  despite  the  very  earnest  arguments  of  Mr. 
Lyster,  he  did  have  to  go  alone.  During  all  the  jour- 
ney, he  was  conscious  of  a  quite  unreasonable  disappoint- 
ment, an  impatience  with  even  Overton,  for  not  enforc- 
ing his  authority  as  guardian,  and  insisting  that  she  at 
once  commence  the  many  studies  in  which  she  was  sadly 
deficient. 


PARTNERS  151 

But  Overton  had  stood  back  and  said  nothing.  Lyster 
did  not  understand  it,  and  could  not  succeed  in  mak- 
ing either  of  them  communicative. 

"You'll  be  back  here  in  less  than  a  month,"  said  Over- 
ton.  "We  will  send  her  then,  if  she  feels  equal  to  it.  In 
the  meantime,  we'll  take  the  best  care  we  can  of  her 
here  at  the  Ferry.  I  find  I  will  have  time  to  look  after 
her  a  little  until  then.  I  have  only  one  short  trip  to  make 
up  the  river;  so  don't  get  uneasy  about  her.  She'll  be 
ready  to  go  next  run  you  make,  sure." 

So  Lyster  wondered,  dissatisfied,  and  went  away.  He 
was  even  a  little  more  dissatisfied  with  his  last  memory 
of  the  girl — a  vision  of  her  bending  over  that  unknown, 
helpless  miner.  His  sympathies  were  with  the  man.  He 
was  most  willing  to  assist,  in  a  financial  way,  toward 
taking  care  of  one  so  unfortunate. .  But  the  thing  he  was 
not  willing  to  do  was  to  see  'Tana  devote  herself  with- 
out restraint  to  the  welfare  of  a  stranger — a  man  they 
knew  nothing  of — a  fellow  who,  of  course,  could  have 
no  appreciation  of  the  great  luck  he  was  in  to  have  her 
constantly  beside  him.  It  was  a  clean  waste  of  exception- 
able sympathy ;  and  a  squaw,  or  some  miner  out  of  work, 
would  do  as  well  in  this  case. 

He  even  offered  to  pay  for  a  squaw,  or  for  any  mas- 
culine nurse;  but  the  girl  had  very  promptly  suggested 
that  he  busy  himself  with  his  own  duties,  if  he  had  any. 
She  stated  further  that  he  had  no  control  whatever  over 
her  actions,  and  she  could  not  understand — 

"I  know  I  have  none,"  he  retorted,  with  some  impa- 
tience, and  yet  a  good  deal  of  fondness  in  his  handsome 
eyes.  "That  is  why  I'm  complaining.  I  wish  I  had. 
And  if  I  had,  wouldn't  I  whisk  you  away  from  this 


152  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

uncouth  life!  I  wonder  if  you  will  ever  let  me  do  so, 
Tana?" 

"I  think  you'd  better  be  packing  your  plunder,"  she 
remarked,  coolly.  "If  you  don't,  you'll  keep  the  whole 
outfit  waiting." 

And  that  was  how  they  let  even  Lyster  go  away.  Not 
a  hint  was  he  given  of  the  all-engrossing  plan  that 
bound  both  'Tana  and  Overton  to  the  interests  of  the 
passive  stranger,  who  looked  at  them  with  intelligence, 
but  who  could  not  speak. 

Their  partnership  was  a  curious  affair,  and  the  ar- 
rangement for  interests  in  it  was  conducted  on  the  one 
side  by  nods  or  shakes  of  the  head,  while  the  other 
two  offered  suggestions,  and  asked  questions,  until  a 
very  clear  understanding  was  arrived  at. 

Only  one  knotty  discussion  had  arisen.  Overton  of- 
fered to  give  one  month  of  time  to  the  search,  on  con- 
dition that  one  half  of  the  find,  if  there  was  any  made, 
should  belong  to  Tana,  while  the  original  finder  should 
have  the  other  half.  He  himself  would  give  that  much 
time  to  helping  them  out  in  a  friendly  way;  but  more 
than  that  he  could  not  give,  because  of  other  duties. 

To  this  the  man  Harris  shook  his  head  with  all  pos- 
sible vigor,  while  Tana  was  quite  as  emphatic  in  an 
audible  way.  Harris  desired  that  all  shares  be  equal, 
and  Overton  count  himself  in  for  a  third.  Tana  ap- 
proved the  plan,  insisting  that  she  would  not  accept  an 
ounce  of  the  dust  if  he  did  not.  So  Dan  finally  agreed 
and  ended  the  discussion  concerning  the  division  of  the 
gold  they  might  never  find. 

"And  don't  be  so  dead  sure  that  the  dirt  will  pan 
out  well,  even  if  we  do  find  the  place,"  he  said,  warn- 
ingly,  to  Tana.  "Why,  my  girl,  if  the  average  of  dust 


PARTNERS  153 

had  been  as  high  as  my  average  of  hope  over  strikes 
I've  made  myself,  I  would  have  been  a  billionaire  long 
ago." 

"I  never  heard  you  talk  of  prospecting,"  remarked 
'Tana.  "All  the  rest  do  here,  and  not  you — how  is 
that?" 

"Oh,  prospecting  strikes  one  like  a  fever;  sometimes 
a  man  recovers  from  it,  or  seems  to  for  a  while.  I  had 
the  fever  bad  about  two  years  ago — out  in  Nevada, 
Well,  I  left  there.  I  sunk  my  stock  of  capital  in  a  very 
big  hole,  and  lost  my  enthusiasm  for  a  while.  Maybe 
I  will  find  it  again,  drifting  along  the  Kootenai ;  but  as 
yet  it  has  not  struck  me  hard.  From  what  I  can  gather, 
this  fellow  must  simply  have  dropped  on  a  nugget  or 
little  pocket,  and  something  must  have  made  him  dis- 
trust his  partner  to  such  an  extent  that  he  kept  the  secret 
find  to  himself.  So  there  evidently  has  been  no  testing 
of  the  soil,  no  move  toward  development.  We  may 
never  find  an  ounce  of  metal,  for  such  disappointments 
have  been  even  where  very  large  nuggets  have  been 
found.  You  must  not  expect  too  much  of  this  search. 
Golden  hope  lets  you  down  hard  when  you  do  fall  with 
it." 

But,  despite  his  warnings,  he  made  arrangements  for 
their  river  journey  with  all  speed  possible.  The  three 
of  them  were  to  go;  and,  as  chaperon,  Mrs.  Huzzard 
was  persuaded  to  join  their  queer  "picnic"  party,  for 
that  was  the  idea  given  abroad  concerning  their  little 
trip  to  the  north.  It  was  to  be  a  venture  in  the  inter- 
ests of  Harris — supposedly  the  physical  interests ;  though 
Captain  Leek  did  remark,  with  decided  emphasis,  that 
it  was  the  first  time  he  ever  knew  of  a  man  being  sent 
out  to  live  in  the  woods  as  a  cure  for  paralysis. 


154:  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

But  the  preparations  were  made;  even  the  fact  that 
Mrs.  Huzzard  was  seized  with  an  unreasonable  attack 
of  rheumatism  on  the  eve  of  departure  did  not  deter 
them  at  all. 

"Unless  you  need  me  to  stay  here  and  look  after  you, 
we'll  go  just  the  same/'  decided  'Tana.  "A  squaw 
won't  be  much  of  a  substitute  for  you;  but  she'll  be  bet- 
ter than  no  one,  and  we'll  go." 

So  the  squaw  was  secured,  through  the  agency  of  her 
husband,  whom  Overton  knew,  and  who  was  to  take 
their  camp  outfit  up  the  river  for  them.  This  was  one 
reason  why  Mrs.  Huzzard,  as  she  watched  them  depart, 
was  a  little  thankful  for  the  visitation  of  rheumatism. 

Their  camp  was  only  a  day  old  when  'Tana  announced 
her  willingness  to  dance  if  only  good  fortune  would 
come  to  her. 

It  seemed  a  thing  probable,  for  as  •  Overton  poured 
water  slowly  from  a  tin  pan  into  the  shallow  little 
stream,  there  were  left  in  the  bottom  of  the  pan,  as  the 
last  sifting  bit  of  soil  was  washed  out,  some  tiny  bits 
of  yellow  the  size  of  a  pin-head,  and  one  as  large  as  a 
grain  of  wheat. 

'Tana  gave  a  little  ecstatic  cry  as  she  bent  over  it  and 
touched  the  particles  with  her  finger. 

"Oh,  Dan — it  is  the  gold! — the  real  gold!  and  we  are 
millionaires ! — millionaires,  and  you  would  not  believe 
it!" 

He  raised  his  finger  warningly,  and  shook  his  head. 

"Wait  until  we  are  millionaires  before  you  commence 
to  shout,"  he  advised.  "It  is  a  good  show  here — yes; 
but,  after  all,  it  may  be  only  a  chance  washing  from 
hills  far  enough  away.  Show  them  to  Harris,  though; 


PARTNERS  155 

he  may  be  interested,  though  he  appears  to  me  very  in- 
different about  the  matter." 

"He  don't  seem  to  care,"  she  agreed.  "He  just  looks 
at  us  as  though  we  were  a  couple  of  children  he  had 
found  a  new  plaything  for.  But  don't  you  think  he 
looks  brighter?" 

"Well,  yes;  the  river  trip  has  done  him  good,  instead 
of  the  harm  the  Ferry  folks  prophesied.  But  you  run 
along  and  show  him  the  'yellow/  and  don't  draw  the 
squaw's  attention  to  it." 

The  squaw  was  wrapped  neck  and  heels  in  a  blanket, 
although  the  day  was  one  of  the  warmest  of  summer; 
and  stretched  asleep  in  the  sun,  she  gave  no  heed  to  the 
quick,  light  step  of  the  girl. 

Neither  did  Harris,  at  whose  tent  door  she  lay.  He 
must  have  thought  it  was  the  stoical,  indifferent  Indian, 
for  he  gave  her  a  quick,  startled  glance  as  he  heard  her 
surprised  "Oh!"  at  the  door.  Then  she  walked  directly 
to  him,  lifted  his  right  hand,  and  let  go  again.  It  fell 
on  his  knee  in  the  old,  helpless  way. 

"But  you  did  raise  it,"  she  said,  accusingly.  "I  saw 
you  as  I  came  to  the  door.  You  stretched  out  your 
hand." 

He  looked  at  her  and  nodded  very  slightly,  then  looked 
at  his  hand  and  appeared  trying  to  lift  it ;  but  gave  up, 
and  shook  his  head  sadly. 

"You  mean  you  moved  it  a  little  once,  but  can't  do 
it  again?"  she  asked,  and  he  nodded  assent. 

"Oh,  well,  that's  all  right,"  she  continued,  cheerfully. 
"You  are  sure  to  get  along  all  right,  now  that  you  have 
commenced  to  manage  your  hands  if  ever  so  little.  But 
just  at  first,  when  I  saw  you,  I  had  a  mighty  queer  notion 
come  into  my  head.  I  thought  you  were  getting  over 


156  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

that  stroke  faster  than  you  let  us  know.  But  I'm  too 
suspicious,  ain't  I?  Maybe  it's  a  bad  thing  for  folks  to 
trust  strangers  too  much  in  this  world;  but  it  is  just 
as  bad  for  a  girl  to  grow  up  where  she  can't  trust  any 
one.  Don't  you  think  so?" 

The  man  nodded.  They  had  many  conversations  like 
that,  and  she  had  grown  not  to  notice  his  lack  of  speech 
nearly  so  much  as  at  first.  He  was  so  good  a  listener, 
and  she  had  become  so  used  to  his  face  gradually  gain- 
ing again  expressive  power,  that  she  divined  his  wishes 
more  readily  than  the  others. 

"But  trusting  don't  cut  any  figure  in  what  I  came  to 
speak  to  you  about,"  she  continued.  "No  'trust  and 
hope  on,  brethren,'  about  this,  I  guess,"  and  she  held 
the  grains  of  yellow  metal  before  his  eyes.  "There  it  is 
— the  gold !  Dan  found  it  in  the  little  hollow  where  the 
spring  is.  Is  that  where  you  found  it?" 

He  shook  his  head,  but  looked  pleased  at  the  show 
they  had  found. 

"Was  it  bigger  bundles  of  it  than  this  you  struck?" 

He  nodded  assent. 

"Bigger  than  this!  Well,  it  must  have  been  rich. 
These  lumps  are  enough  in  size  if  they  only  turn  out 
enough  in  number.  Oh,  how  I  wish  you  had  put  the 
very  spot  on  that  plan  of  the  ground  and  the  rivers! 
Still,  I  suppose  you  were  right  to  be  cautious.  And  if 
I  hadn't  been  on  a  lone  trail  through  this  country  last 
spring,  and  got  lost,  and  happened  to  notice  the  two 
little  streams  running  into  the  river  so  close  to  each 
other,  we  might  have  had  a  year's  journey  along  the 
Kootenai  before  we  could  have  found  the  particular  little 
stream  and  followed  the  right  one  to  its  source.  I  think 
we  are  close  on  the  trail  now,  Joe." 


PARTNERS  157 

He  shook  his  head  energetically  when  she  called  him 
Joe. 

"Well,  I  forget,"  she  said.  "You  see,  I've  been  think- 
ing  for  months  about  finding  Joe  Hammond;  and  now 
that  I've  found  you,  I  can't  get  used  to  thinking  you  are 
Jim  Harris.  What's  the  use  of  your  changing  your 
name,  anyway?  You  did  it  so  you  could  trail  him,  your 
partner,  better.  But  what  was  the  use,  with  him  well 
and  strong,  and  with  devils  back  of  him,  and  you  alone 
and  barely  able  to  crawl  ?  Your  head  was  wrong,  Joe — 
Jim,  I  mean.  If  you  hadn't  been  looney,  you'd  just  have 
settled  down  and  worked  your  claim,  got  rich,  and  then 
looked  for  your  man." 

He  shook  his  head  impatiently,  and  looked  at  her  with 
as  much  of  a  frown  as  his  locked  muscles  would  allow, 
and  a  very  queer,  hard  smile  about  his  eyes  and  mouth. 

"Ah!"  and  'Tana  shivered  a  little;  "don't  look  like 
that,  Joe.  You  wouldn't  get  any  Sunday-school  prizes 
for  a  meek  and  lowly  spirit  if  the  manager  saw  you 
fix  your  face  in  that  fashion.  I  guess  I  know  how  you 
felt.  If  you  had  just  so  much  strength,  and  couldn't 
hope  for  more,  you  wouldn't  waste  it  looking  for  gold 
while  he  was  above  ground.  Now,  ain't  I  about  right?" 

He  gave  no  assent,  but  smiled  in  a  more  kindly  way 
at  the  shrewdness  of  her  guess. 

"You  won't  own  up,  but  I  know  I  am  right,"  she 
said;  "and  the  way  I  know  it  is  because  I  think  I'd  feel 
just  like  that  myself  if  some  one  hurt  me  bad.  I  wonder 
if  girls  often  feel  that  way.  I  guess  not.  I  know  Ora 
Harrison,  the  doctor's  girl,  don't.  She  says  her  prayers 
every  night,  and  asks  God  to  let  her  enemies  have  good 
luck.  U'm !  I  can't  do  that." 
11 


158  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

The  man  watched  her  as  she  sat  silent  for  a  little, 
looking  out  into  the  still,  warm  sunshine.  The  squaw 
slumbered  on,  and  the  girl  stared  across  her,  and  her 
face  grew  sad  and  moody  with  some  hard  thought. 

"It's  awful  to  hate,"  she  said,  at  last.  "Don't  you 
think  it  is? — to  hate  so  that  you  can't  breathe  right 
when  the  person  you  hate  comes  near  where  you  are — 
to  be  able  to  feel  if  he  comes  near,  even  when  you  don't 
see  or  hear  him,  to  feel  a  devil  that  rises  up  in  your 
breast  and  makes  you  want  to  get  a  knife  and  cut — cut 
deep,  until  the  blood  you  hate  runs  away  from  the  face 
you  hate,  and  leaves  it  white  and  cold.  Ah!  it's  bad,  I 
reckon,  to  have  some  one  hate  you;  but  it's  a  thousand 
times  worse  to  hate  back.  It  makes  the  prettiest  day 
black  when  the  devil  tells  you  of  the  hate  you  must 
remember,  and  you  can't  pray  it  away,  and  you  can't 
forget  it,  and  you  can't  help  it!  Oh,  dear!" 

She  put  her  hands  over  her  eyes  and  leaned  her  head 
against  his  hand.  He  felt  her  tears,  but  could  not  com- 
fort her. 

"You  see,  I  know — how  you  felt,"  she  ,said,  trying  to 
speak  steadily.  "Girls  shouldn't  know ;  girls  should  have 
love  and  good  thoughts  taught  to  them.  I — I've  dreamed 
dreams  of  what  a  girl's  life  ought  to  be  like ;  something 
like  Ora's  home,  where  her  mother  kisses  her  and  loves 
her,  and  her  father  kisses  and  loves  them  both.  I  went 
to  their  home  once,  and  I  never  could  go  again.  I  was 
starving  for  the  kind  of  home  she  has,  and  I  knew  I 
never  would  get  it.  That  is  the  hardest  part  of  it — to 
know,  no  matter  how  hard  you  try  to  be  good,  all  your 
life,  you  can't  get  back  the  good  thoughts  and  the  love 
that  should  have  been  yours  when  you  were  little — the 
good  thoughts  that  would  have  kept  hate  from  growing 


PARTNERS  159 

in  your  heart,  until  it  is  stronger  than  you  are.  Oh,  it's 
awful  !" 

The  squaw,  who  did  not  understand  English,  but  did 
understand  tears,  rolled  over  and  peered  out  from  her 
blanket  at  the  girl  who  knelt  there  as  at  the  feet  of  a 
confessor.  But  the  girl  did  not  see  her;  she  still  knelt 
there,  almost  whispering  now. 

"And  the  worst  of  it  is,  Joe,  after  they  are  dead — the 
ones  you  hate — then  the  devil  in  you  commences  to  tor- 
ment you  by  making  you  think  of  some  good  points 
among  the  bad  ones;  some  little  kind  word  that  would 
have  made  the  hate  in  your  heart  less  if  it  had  not  been 
for  your  own  terrible  wickedness.  And  it  gnaws  and 
torments  you  just  like  a  rat  gnawing  the  heart  out  of 
a  log  for  a  nest.  And  hate  is  terrible !  whether  it  is  live 
hate,  or  dead,  it  is  terrible.  Maybe  I  won't  feel  so  bad 
now  that  I've  said  out  loud  to  some  one  how  I  feel — 
how  much  harder  my  heart  is  than  it  ought  to  be.  I 
couldn't  tell  any  one  else.  But  you  hate,  too,  you  know. 
Maybe  you  know,  too,  that  dead  hate  hurts  worst — that 
it  haunts  like  a  ghost." 

She  looked  up  at  him,  and  saw  again  that  queer,  wise 
smile  about  his  lips. 

"You  don't  believe  he's  dead!"  she  said,  and  her  face 
grew  paler.  "You  think  he's  still  alive,  and  that  is  why 
you  don't  want  folks  to  use  your  old  name.  You  are 
laying  for  him  yet,  and  you  so  helpless  you  can't  move !" 

The  man  only  looked  at  her  grimly.  He  would  not 
deny;  he  would  not  assent. 

"But  you  are  wrong,"  she  persisted.  "He  is  dead. 
The  Indians  told  me  so — Akkomi  told  me  so.  Would 
they  lie  to  me?  Joe,  can't  you  let  the  hate  go  by,  now 
that  he  is  dead— dtad?" 


160  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

But  no  motion  answered  her,  though  his  eyes  rested 
on  her  kindly  enough.  Then  the  squaw  arose  and 
slouched  away  to  pick  up  firewood  in  the  forest,  and 
£he  girl  arose,  too,  and  touched  his  hand. 

"Well,  whether  you  can  or  not,  I  am  glad  I  told  you 
what  I  did.  Maybe  it  won't  worry  me  so  much  now; 
for  sometimes,  just  when  I'm  almost  happy,  the  ghost 
of  that  bad  hate  seems  to  whisper,  whisper,  and  there 
ain't  any  more  good  times  for  me.  I'm  glad  I  told  you. 
I  would  not  have,  though,  if  you  could  talk  like  other 
folks,  but  you  can't." 

She  got  him  a  drink  of  water,  slipped  their  first  find 
of  the  gold  into  his  pocket,  and  then  stood  at  the  tent 
door,  watching  for  Overton. 

But  he  did  not  come,  and  after  a  little  she  picked  up 
the  pan  again  and  started  for  the  small  stream  where 
she  had  left  him. 

The  man  in  the  chair  watched  her  go,  and  when  she 
was  out  of  sight,  that  right  hand  was  again  slowly  raised 
from  the  chair. 

"C — an't  I  ?"  he  whispered,  in  a  strange,  indistinct  way. 
"Poor  lit—tie  girl!  poor  little— girl !" 


THE  TRACK  IN  THE  FOREST  161 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  TRACK  IN  THE  FOREST. 

Their  camp  was  about  a  mile  from  the  Kootenai  River, 
and  close  to  a  stream  of  depth  sufficient  to  carry  a 
canoe;  while,  a  little  way  north  of  their  camp,  a  beauti- 
ful spring  of  clear  water  gurgled  out  from  under  a  little 
bank,  and  added  its  portion  to  the  larger  stream  that 
flowed  eastward  to  the  river. 

There  was  a  little  peculiarity  about  the  spring,  which 
made  it  one  to  remember — or,  rather,  two  to  remember, 
for  it  was  really  a  twin,  and  its  sister  stream  slipped 
from  the  other  side  of  the  narrow  ledge  and  ran  north 
for  a  little  way,  and  then  turned  to  the  east  and  emptied 
into  the  Kootenai,  not  a  hundred  yards  from  the  stream 
into  which  its  mate  had  run. 

The  two  springs  were  not  twenty  feet  apart,  and  lay 
direct  north  and  south  from  each  other.  Then  their 
wide  curves,  in  opposite  directions,  left  within  their 
circle  a  tract  of  land  like  an  island,  for  the  streams 
bounded  it  entirely  except  for  that  narrow  neck  of  rock 
and  soil  joining  it  to  the  bigger  hills  to  the  west. 

It  was  in  the  vicinity  of  the  two  springs  that  the  rude 
sketch  of  Harris  bade  them  search;  but  more  definite 
directions  than  that  he  had  not  given.  He  had  marked 
a  tree  where  the  north  stream  joined  the  river;  and  find- 
ing that  as  a  clew,  they  followed  the  stream  to  its 
source.  When  they  reached  the  larger  stream,  navigable 


162  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

for  a  mile,  they  concluded  to  move  their  tents  there,  for 
no  lovelier  place  could  be  found. 

It  was  'Tana  and  Overton  who  tramped  over  the  lands 
where  the  streams  lay,  and  did  their  own  prospecting 
for  location.  He  was  surprised  to  find  her  knowledge  of 
the  land  so  accurate.  The  crude  drawing  was  as  a 
solved  problem  to  her;  she  never  once  made  a  wrong 
turn. 

•  "Well,  I've  thought  over  it  a  heap,"  she  said,  when 
he  commented  on  her  clever  ideas.  "I  saw  that  marked 
tree  as  we  went  down  to  the  Ferry,  and  I  remembered 
where  it  was ;  and  the  trail  is  not  hard  if  you  only  get 
started  on  it  right.  It's  getting  started  right  that  counts 
—ain't  it,  Dan?" 

There  seemed  fewer  barriers  between  them  in  the 
free,  out-of-door  life,  where  no  third  person's  views  col- 
ored their  own.  They  talked  of  Lyster,  and  missed  him ; 
yet  Dan  was  conscious  that  if  Lyster  were  with  them, 
he  would  have  come  second  instead  of  first  in  her  confi- 
dences, and  her  friendly,  appealing  ways. 

Whether  he  trusted  her  or  not,  she  did  not  know.  He 
had  not  asked  a  question  as  to  how  that  survey  of  the 
land  came  to  her;  but  he  watched  Harris  sometimes 
when  the  girl  paid  him  any  little  attention,  and  he  could 
read  only  absolute  trust  in  the  man's  eyes. 

Overton  was  not  given  to  keen  analysis  of  people  or 
motives;  a  healthy  unconcern  pervaded  his  mind  as  to 
the  affairs  of  most  people.  But  sometimes  the  girl's 
character,  her  peculiar  knowledge,  her  mysterious  past, 
touched  him  with  a  sense  of  strange  confusion,  yet  in  the 
midst  of  the  confusion — the  deepest  of  it — he  had  put 
all  else  aside  when  she  appealed  to  him,  and  had  fol- 
lowed her  lead  into  the  wilderness. 


THE  TRACK  IN  THE  FOREST  1G3 

And  as  she  ran  from  him  with  the  particles  of  gold, 
and  carried  them,  as  he  bade  her,  to  Harris,  he  followed 
her  with  his  gaze  until  she  disappeared  through  the 
green  wall  of  the  bushes.  Once  he  started  to  follow  her, 
and  then  stopped,  suddenly  muttered  something  about  a 
"cursed  fool,"  and  flung  himself  face  down  in  the  tall 
grass. 

"It's  got  to  end  here,"  he  said,  aloud,  as  men  grow 
used  to  thinking  when  they  live  alone  in  the  woods 
much.  Then  he  raised  himself  on  his  elbows  and  looked 
over  the  little  grassy  dip  of  the  land  to  where  the  stream 
from  the  hills  sparkled  in  the  warm  sun;  and  then 
away  beyond  to  where  the  evergreens  raised  their  dark 
heads  along  the  heights,  looking  like  somber  guardians 
keeping  ward  over  the  sunny  valley  of  the  twin  springs. 
Over  them  all  his  gaze  wandered,  and  then  up  into 
the  deep  forest  above  him — a  forest  unbroken  from 
there  to  the  swift  Columbia. 

The  perfect  harmony  of  it  all  must  have  op-pressed 
him  until  he  felt  himself  the  one  discordant  note,  for 
he  closed  his  eyes  with  a  sigh  that  was  almost  a  groan. 

"I'll  see  it  all  again — often,  I  suppose,"  he  muttered; 
"but  never  quite  as  it  is  now — never,  for  it's  got  to  end. 
The  little  bits  of  gold  I  found  are  a  warning  of  the 
changes  to  come  here — that  is  the  way  it  seems  to  me. 
Queer  how  a  man  will  change  his  idea  of  life  in  a  year 
or  so!  There  have  been  times  when  I  would  have  re- 
joiced over  the  prospect  of  wealth  there  is  here;  yet  all 
I  am  actually  conscious  of  is  regret  that  everything 
must  change — the  place — the  people — all  where  gold  is 
king.  Pshaw !  what  a  fool  I  would  seem  to  any  one  else 
if  he  knew.  Yet — well,  I  have  dreamed  all  my  days  of 
a  sort  of  life  where  absolute  happiness  could  be  lived. 


164:  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

Other  men  do  the  same,  I  suppose — yes,  of  course.  I 
wonder  if  others  also  come  in  reach  of  it  too  late.  I  sup- 
pose so.  Well,  reasoning  won't  change  it.  I  marked 
out  my  own  path — marked  it  out  with  as  little  thought  as 
many  another  fool;  but  I've  got  to  walk  in  it  just  the 
same,  and  cursing  back  don't  help  luck.  But  I  had  to 
have  a  little  powwow  all  alone  and  be  sorry  for  myself, 
before  turning  my  back  on  the  man  I'd  like  to  be — and — 
the  rest  of  my  dreams  that  have  come  in  sight  for  a  little 
while  but  can  never  come  nearer —  There  she  comes 
again!  I'm  glad  of  it,  for  she  will  at  least  keep  me 
from  drifting  into  dreams  alone." 

But  she  appeared  to  be  dreaming  a  little  herself.  At 
any  rate,  the  scene  she  had  passed  through  in  the  tent 
left  memories  too  dark  with  feeling  to  be  quickly  dis- 
pelled, and  he  noticed  at  once  the  change  in  her  face, 
and  the  traces  of  tears  left  about  her  eyes. 

"What  has  hurt  you?"  he  asked. 

She  shook  her  head  and  said: 

"Nothing." 

"Oh !  So  you  leave  here  jolly  enough,  and  run  around 
to  camp,  and  cry  about  nothing — do  you?"  he  asked, 
with  evident  unbelief.  "Were  you  crying  for  joy  over 
those  little  grains  of  gold — or  over  your  loneliness  in 
being  so  far  from  the  Ferry  folks?" 

She  laughed  at  the  mere  idea  of  either — and  laughter 
dispels  tear  traces  so  quickly  from  faces  that  are  young. 
"Lonely!"  she  exclaimed:  "lonely  here?  why,  I  feel  a 
heap  more  satisfied  here  than  down  at  the  Ferry,  where 
the  whole  place  smelled  like  saw-mills  and  new  lumber. 
I  always  had  a  grudge  against  saw-mills,  for  they  spoil 
all  the  lovely  woods.  That  is  why  I  like  all  this,"  and 
she  made  a  sweep  of  her  arm,  embracing  all  the  terri- 


THE  TRACK  IN  THE  FOREST     165 

tory  in  sight;  "for  in  here  not  a  tree  has  been  touched 
with  an  ax.  Lonely  here !  Why,  Dan,  I've  been  so  per- 
fectly happy  that  I'm  afraid — yes,  I  am.  Didn't  you 
ever  feel  like  that — just  as  if  you  were  too  happy  to  last, 
and  you  were  afraid  some  trouble  would  come  and  end 
it  all?" 

But  Overton  stooped  to  lift  the  pick  he  had  been  using, 
and  so  turned  his  face  away  from  her. 

"Well,  I'm  glad  you  are  not  getting  blue  over  lack 
of  company,"  he  remarked;  "for  we  have  only  com- 
menced prospecting,  you  know,  and  it  will  be  at  least 
a  week  before  we  can  hope  to  send  for  any  one  else  to 
join  us." 

"A  week!  Do  you  intend  to  send  for  other  folks, 
then?"  and  her  tone  was  one  of  regret.  "Oh,  it  would 
be  all  different,  then.  My  pretty  camp  would  be  spoiled 
for  me  if  folks  should  come  talking  and  whistling  up 
our  creek.  Don't  let  any  one  know  so  soon !" 

"You  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  of,"  he  an- 
swered, a  little  roughly.  "This  is  a  business  trip.  We  did 
not  come  up  here  just  because  we  were  looking  for  a 
pretty  picture  of  a  place  to  camp  in." 

"Oh!"  and  surprise  and  dismay  were  in  the  exclama- 
tion. "Then  you  don't  care  for  it — you  want  other  peo- 
ple just  as  soon  as  you  find  the  rich  streak  where  the  gold 
is  ?  Well" — and  she  looked  again  over  their  little  chosen 
valley — "I  almost  hope  you  won't  find  it  very  soon — not 
for  several  days.  I  would  like  to  live  just  like  this  for 
a  whole  week.  And  I  thought — I  was  so  sure  you  liked 
it,  too." 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  answered,  indifferently  enough,  evi- 
dently giving  his  whole  attention  to  examining  the  soil 
he  had  commenced  to  dig  up  again,  "I  like  the  camp  all 


166  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

right,  but  we  can't  just  stand  around  and  admire  it,  if 
we  want  to  accomplish  what  we  came  for.  And  see  here, 
'Tana,"  he  said,  and  for  the  first  time  he  looked  at  her 
with  a  sort  of  unwillingness,  "you  must  know  that  this 
gold  is  going  to  make  a  big  change  in  things  for  you. 
You  can't  live  out  in  the  woods  with  a  couple  of  miners 
and  an  Indian  squaw,  after  your  fortune  is  made — don't 
you  see  that  ?  You  must  go  to  school,  and  live  out  in  the 
world  where  your  money  will  help  you  to — well,  the 
right  sort  of  society  for  a  girl." 

"What  is  the  use  of  having  money  if  it  don't  help  you 
to  live  where  you  please?"  she  demanded.  "I  thought 
that  was  what  money  was  for.  I'd  a  heap  rather  stay 
poor  here  in  the  woods,  with — with  the  folks  I  know, 
instead  of  going  where  I'll  have  to  buy  friends  with 
money.  Don't  think  I'd  want  the  sort  of  friends  who 
have  to  be  baited  with  money,  anyway." 

He  stared  at  her  helplessly.  She  was  saying  to  him  the 
things  he  had  called  himself  a  fool  for  thinking.  But  he 
could  not  call  her  a  fool.  He  could  only  stifle  an  impatient 
groan,  and  wonder  how  he  was  to  reason  her  into  think- 
ing as  other  girls  would  think  of  wealth  and  its  advan- 
tages. 

"Why  were  you  so  wild  about  finding  the  gold,  if  you 
care  so  little  for  the  things  it  brings  ?"  he  demanded,  and 
she  pointed  toward  the  tents. 

"It  was  for  him  I  thought  at  first — of  how  the  money 
would,  maybe,  help  to  make  him  well — get  him  great 
doctors,  and  all  that.  The  world  had  been  rough  on  him 
— people  had  brought  him  trouble,  and — and  I  thought, 
maybe,  I  could  help  clear  it  away.  That  was  what  I  had 
in  my  mind  at  first." 


THE  TRACK  IN  THE  FOREST  167 

"You  need  things,  too,  don't  you? — not  doctors,  but 
education — books,  beautiful  things.  You  want  pictures, 
statues,  fine  music,  theaters — all  such  things.  Well,  the 
money  will  help  you  get  them,  and  get  people  to  enjoy 
them  with  you.  I've  heard  you  talk  to  Max  about  how 
you  would  like  to  live,  and  what  you  would  like  to  see; 
and  I  think  you  can  soon.  But,  'Tana,  you  will  live 
then  where  people  will  be  more  critical  than  we  are 
here—" 

"More  like  Captain  Leek?"  she  asked,  with  a  deep 
wrinkle  between  her  brows;  "for  if  they  are,  I'll  stay 
here." 

"N — no;  not  like  him;  and  yet  they  will  think  con- 
siderable of  his  sort  of  ideas,  too,"  he  answered,  blun- 
deringly. "One  thing  sure  is  this :  When  your  actual 
work  here  is  over,  you  must  go  at  once  back  to  Mrs.  Huz- 
zard.  It  was  necessary  for  you  to  come,  else  I  wouldn't 
have  allowed  it.  But,  little  girl,  when  you  get  among 
those  fine  friends  you  are  going  to  have,  I  don't  want 
them  to  think  you  had  a  guardian  up  here  who  didn't 
take  the  first  bit  of  civilized  care  of  you.  And  that's 
what  they  would  think  if  I  let  you  stay  here,  just  as 
though  you  were  a  boy.  So  you  see,  'Tana,  I  just  felt 
I'd  have  to  tell  you  plain  that  you  would  have  to  try  and 
fit  yourself  to  city  ways  of  living.  And  when  you  are  a 
millionairess,  as  you  count  on  being,  we  three  partners 
can't  keep  on  living  in  tents  in  the  Kootenai  woods." 

She  pulled  handfuls  of  the  plumy  grasses  beside  her, 
and  stared  sulkily  ahead  of  her.  Evidently  it  was  a 
great  deal  for  her  to  understand  at  once. 

"Would  they  blame  you — you  for  it,  if  they  knew?" 
she  asked  at  last. 


168  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"Yes,  they  would — if  they  knew,"  he  said,  savagely; 
and  turning  away,  he  walked  across  the  little  grassy 
level  to  where  the  abrupt  little  wall  or  ledge  commenced 
— the  one  from  under  which  the  springs  flowed. 

She  thought  he  was  simply  out  of  patience  with  her. 
He  was  going  to  the  woods — anywhere  to  be  rid  of  her 
and  her  stupid  ideas ;  and  swift  as  a  bird,  she  slipped  after 
him. 

"Then  I'll  go,  Dan,"  she  said  reassuringly,  catching 
his  arm.  "So  don't  be  vexed  at  me  for  being  stubborn. 
Come!  let  me  look  for  the  gold  with  you,  and  then — • 
then  I'll  go  when  you  say." 

"It's  a  bargain,"  he  said,  briefly,  and  drew  his  arm 
away.  "And  if  we  are  going  to  do  any  more  prospecting 
this  evening,  we  had  better  begin." 

He  stood  facing  her,  with  his  back  to  the  bank  that 
was  the  first  tiny  step  toward  the  mountain  that  rose 
dark  and  shadowy  far  above.  He  had  walked  along 
there  before,  looking  with  a  miner's  attention  to  the 
lay  of  the  land.  Suddenly  he  uttered  an  exclamation, 
and  a  light  of  comprehension  brightened  his  eyes. 

"I've  got  a  clew  to  it,  sure,  'Tana!"  he  said,  eagerly. 
"Do  you  know  where  we  are  standing?  Well,  if  I  don't 
make  a  big  mistake,  a  good-sized  river  once  rolled  along 
just  where  we  are  now.  The  little  creek  is  all  that's 
left  of  it.  This  soil  is  all  a  comparatively  recent  deposit, 
and  it  and  the  gold  dust  in  it  have  been  washed  down 
from  the  mountain.  Which  means  that  this  little  valley 
is  only  a  gateway,  and  the  dust  we  found  is  only  a  trail 
we  are  to  follow  up  to  the  mine  from  which  it  came.  Do 
you  understand?" 

"Yes,  I  think  so,"  she  answered,  looking  at  the  green- 
covered  banks,  and  trying  to  realize  how  they  looked 


THE  TRACK  IN  THE  FOREST  169 

when  a  mountain  river  had  cut  its  way  through  and 
covered  all  the  pretty  level  where  the  spring  stream 
slipped  now.  "But  doesn't  that  make  the  gold  seem 
farther  away — much  farther?  Will  we  have  to  move  up 
higher  in  the  mountains?" 

"That  is  a  question  I  need  time  to  answer,  but  if  I 
am  right — if  there  is  a  backing  of  gold  ore  somewhere 
above  this  old  river  bed,  it  means  a  much  surer  thing 
than  an  occasional  bit  of  dust  washed  out  of  the  mud 
here.  But  we  won't  ignore  our  little  placer  digging* 
either.  There  is  an  advantage  to  a  poor  prospector  in 
having  a  claim  he  can  work  without  any  machinery  but 
a  pick,  shovel,  and  pan ;  while  the  gold  ore  needs  a  for- 
tune to  develop  it.  Let  us  go  back  and  talk  to  Harris, 
to  see  if  his  evidence  substantiates  my  theory.  If  not, 
we  will  just  stake  out  our  claims  on  the  level,  and  be 
thankful.  Later  we  will  investigate  the  hills." 

The  girl  walked  slowly  beside  him  back  to  their  camp. 
The  shadows  were  commencing  to  lengthen.  It  was 
nearing  supper  time,  and  their  day  had  been  a  busy,  tiring 
one,  for  they  had  moved  their  camp  many  miles  since 
dawn. 

"You  are  very  nearly  worn  out,  aren't  you  ?"  he  asked, 
as  he  noticed  her  tired  eyes  and  her  listless  step.  "You 
see,  you  would  tramp  along  the  shore  this  morning 
when  I  wanted  you  to  stay  in  the  boat." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  she  answered ;  "but  I  don't  think  that 
made  me  tired.  Maybe  it's  the  gold  we  are  to  find. 
How  queer  it  is,  Dan,  that  a  person  will  wai:t  and  want 
some  one  thing  all  his  life,  and  he  thinks  it  will  make  him 
so  happy ;  and  yet,  when  at  last  he  gets  in  sight  of  it,  he 
isn't  happy  at  all.  That  is  the  way  I  feel  about  our  gold. 
I  suppose  I  ought  to  be  singing  and  laughing  and  danc- 


170  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

ing  for  joy.  I  said  I  would,  too.  Yet  here  I  am  feeling 
as  stupid  as  can  be,  and  almost  afraid  of  the  fine  life  you 
say  I  must  go  to.  Oh,  bother!  I  won't  think  over  it 
any  more.  I  am  going  to  get  supper." 

For  while  'Tana  would  accept  the  squaw  as  an  as- 
sistant and  a  gatherer  of  fuel,  she  decidedly  declined  to 
have  her  installed  as  head  cook  She  herself  filled  that 
office  with  a  good  deal  of  girlish  conceit,  encouraged  by 
the  praise  of  Overton  and  the  approving  nods  of  Harris. 

There  had  been  a  fifth  member  of  their  party,  Flap- 
Jack's  husband.  'Tana  had  bestowed  that  name  on  the 
squaw  in  the  very  beginning  of  their  acquaintance.  But 
Overton  had  sent  him  on  an  errand  back  to  Sinna  Ferry, 
not  wishing  to  have  his  watchful  eyes  prying  into  their 
plans  in  the  very  beginning  of  their  prospecting.  And 
it  was  not  until  he  had  started  on  his  journey  that  the 
pick  and  pan  had  disclosed  the  golden  secret  of  the  old 
river  bed. 

Harris  watched  the  two  approach,  and  his  keen  gray 
eyes  turned  with  a  certain  fondness  from  one  to  the  other. 
They  were  as  guardian  angels  to  him,  and  their  mutual 
care  of  him  had  brought  them  closer  to  each  other  there 
in  the  wilderness  than  they  ever  had  been  in  the  little 
settlement  farther  down  the  river. 

"Squaw  not  here  yet?"  asked  'Tana,  and  at  once  set 
to  work  preparing  things  for  the  supper. 

Harris  shook  his  head,  but  at  that  moment  their  hand- 
maiden did  return,  carrying  a  great  load  of  sticks  for 
fire,  and  then  brought  to  the  girl  a  number  of  fine  trout 
she  had  caught  almost  at  their  door.  She  built  the  fire 
outside,  where  two  forked  sticks  had  been  driven  into 
the  ground,  and  across  them  a  pole  lay,  from  which 
kettles  could  be  hung.  As  Tana  set  the  coffee  pot  on 


THE  TRACK  IN  THE  FOREST  171 

the  hot  coals,  the  Indian  woman  spoke  to  her  in  that  low 
voice  which  is  characteristic  of  the  red  people. 

"More  white  men  to  come  into  camp?"  she  asked. 

"White  men?    No.    Why  do  you  ask?" 

"I  see  tracks — not  Dan's  tracks — not  yours." 

"Made  when?" 

"Now— little  while  back— only  little." 

Overton  heard  their  voices,  though  not  their  words; 
and  as  'Tana  re-entered  the  wigwam,  he  glanced  around 
at  her  with  a  dubious  smile. 

"That  is  the  first  time  I  ever  heard  you  actually  talk- 
ing Chinook,"  he  observed;  "though  I've  had  an  idea 
you  could,  ever  since  the  evening  in  Akkomi's  village.  It 
is  like  your  poker  playing,  though  you  have  been  very 
modest  about  it." 

"I  was  not  the  night  I  played  the  captain,"  she 
answered;  "and  I  think  you  might  let  me  alone  about 
that,  after  I  gave  him  back  his  money." 

"That  is  just  the  part  I  can  not  forgive  you  for,"  he 
said.  "He  will  never  get  over  the  idea,  now,  that  you 
cheated  him,  and  that  your  conscience  got  the  better  of 
you  to  such  an  extent  that  you  tried  to  wipe  a  sin  away 
by  giving  the  money  back." 

"Perhaps  I  did,"  she  answered,  quietly.  "I  had  to 
settle  his  conceit  some  way,  for  he  did  bother  me  a  heap 
sometimes.  But  I'm  done  with  that." 

She  seemed  rather  thoughtful  during  the  frying  of  the 
fish  and  the  slicing  down  of  Mrs.  Huzzard's  last  contri- 
bution— a  brown  loaf. 

She  was  disturbed  over  the  footprints  seen  by  the 
Indian  woman — the  track  of  a  white  man  so  close  to  their 
camp  that  day,  yet  who  had  kept  himself  from  their 
sight!  Such  actions  have  a  meaning  in  the  wild  coun- 


172  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

tries,  and  the  meaning  troubled  her.  While  it  would 
have  been  the  most  simple  thing  in  the  world  to  tell  Over- 
ton  and  have  him  make  a  search,  something  made  her 
want  to  do  the  searching  herself — but  how? 

"I  was  right  in  my  theory  about  the  old  river  bed," 
he  said  to  her,  as  she  poured  his  coffee.  "Harris  backs 
me  up  in  it,  and  it  was  ore  he  found,  and  not  the  loose 
dirt  in  the  soil.  So  the  thing  I  am  going  to  strike  out 
for  is  the  headquarters  where  that  loose  dust  comes 
from." 

"Oh!    then  it  was  ore  you  found?"  she  asked. 

Harris  nodded  his  head. 

"Ore  on  the  surface — and  near  here." 

That  news  made  her  even  more  anxious  about  that 
stranger  who  had  prowled  around.  Perhaps  he,  too, 
was  searching  for  the  hidden  wealth. 

When  the  supper  was  over,  and  the  sun  had  slipped 
back  of  the  mountain,  she  beckoned  to  the  squaw,  and 
with  the  water  bucket  as  a  visible  errand,  they  started 
toward  the  spring. 

But  they  did  not  stop  there.  She  wanted  to  see  with 
her  own  eyes  those  footprints,  and  she  followed  the 
Indian  down  into  the  woods  already  growing  dusky  in 
the  dying  day. 

The  birds  were  singing  their  good-night  songs,  and  all 
the  land  seemed  steeped  in  repose.  Only  those  two 
figures,  gliding  between  the  trees,  carried  with  them  the 
spirit  of  unrest. 

They  reached  an  open  space  where  no  trees  grew 
very  close — a  bit  of  marsh  land,  where  the  soil  was 
black  and  tall  ferns  grew.  The  squaw  led  her  straight 
to  a  place  where  two  of  the  fern  fronds  were  bent  and 
broken.  She  parted  the  green  lances,  and  there  beside 


THE  TRACK  IN  THE  FOREST  173 

it  was  a  scraping  away  of  the  earth,  as  though  some  one 
walking  there  had  slipped,  and  in  the  black  sandy  loam 
a  shoe  had  sunk  deep.  The  Indian  was  right;  it  was 
the  mark  of  a  white  man,  for  the  reds  of  that  country 
had  not  yet  adopted  the  footgear  of  their  more  advanced 
neighbors. 

"It  turn  to  camp,"  said  the  squaw.  "Maybe  some 
white  thief,  so  I  tell  you.  Me  tell  Dan?" 

"Wait,"  answered  the  girl;  and,  kneeling  down,  she 
studied  the  slender  outline  of  the  foot  attentively.  "Any 
more  tracks?" 

"No  more — only  leaves  stirred  nearer  to  camp;  he  go 
that  way." 

The  full  moon  rose  clear  and  warm  in  the  east,  while 
yet  the  sun's  light  lingered  over  the  wilderness.  Beau- 
tiful flowers  shone  white  and  pink  and  yellow  in  the 
opaline  light  of  the  evening;  and  'Tana  mechanically 
plucked  a  few  that  touched  her  as  she  passed,  but  she 
gave  little  notice  to  their  beauty.  All  her  thought  was 
on  the  slender  footprint  of  the  man  in  the  woods,  and 
her  face  looked  troubled. 

They  walked  on,  looking  to  right  and  left  in  any  nook 
where  deep  shadows  lay,  but  never  a  sign  could  they  see 
of  aught  that  was  human  besides  themselves,  until  they 
neared  the  springs  again,  when  the  squaw  laid  her  hand 
on  the  arm  of  the  girl. 

"Dan,"  she  said,  in  her  low,  abrupt  way. 

The  girl,  looking  up,  saw  him  a  little  way  ahead  of 
them,  standing  there  straight,  strong,  and  surely  to  be 
trusted;  yet  her  first  impulse  was  to  tell  him  nothing. 

"Take  the  water  and  go,"  she  said  to  the  Indian,  and 
the  woman  disappeared  like  a  mere  wraith  of  a  woman 
in  the  pale  shadows. 
12 


174  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"Don't  go  so  far  next  time  when  you  want  to  pick 
flowers  in  the  evening,"  said  Overton,  as  'Tana  came 
nearer  to  him.  "You  make  me  realize  that  I  have  nerves. 
If  you  had  not  come  in  sight  the  instant  you  did,  I  should 
have  been  after  you." 

"But  nothing  will  harm  us ;  I  am  not  afraid,  and  it  is 
pretty  in  the  woods  now,"  she  answered  lamely,  and 
toyed  with  the  flowers.  But  the  touch  of  her  fingers  was 
nervous,  and  the  same  quality  trembled  in  her  voice.  He 
noticed  it  and  reaching  out  took  her  hand  in  his  very 
gently,  and  yet  with  decision  that  forced  her  to  look  up  at 
him. 

"Little  girl— what  is  it?    You  are  sick?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"No,  I  am  not — I  am  not  sick,"  and  she  tried  to  free 
her  hand,  but  could  not. 

'  Tana,"  and  his  teeth  closed  for  a  moment  on  his  lip 
lest  he  say  all  the  warm  words  that  leaped  up  from 
his  heart  at  sight  of  her  face,  which  looked  startled  and 
pale  in  the  moonlight — "  'Tana,  you  won't  need  me  very 
long;  and  when  you  go  away,  I'll  never  try  to  make  you 
remember  me.  Do  you  understand,  little  girl?  But 
just  now,  while  we  are  so  far  off  from  the  rest  of  the 
world,  won't  you  trust  me  with  your  troubles — with  the 
thoughts  that  worry  you?  I  would  give  half  of  my  life 
to  help  you.  Half  of  it!  Ah,  good  God!  all  of  it! 
Tana—" 

In  his  voice  was  all  the  feeling  which  compels  sym- 
pathy, or  else  builds  up  a  wall  that  bars  it  out.  But  in 
the  eyes  of  the  girl,  startled  though  she  was,  no  resistance 
could  be  read.  Her  hand  was  in  his,  her  face  lifted  to 
him,  and  alight  with  sudden  gladness.  In  his  eyes  she 


THE  TRACK  IN  THE  FOREST  175 

read  the  force  of  an  irresistible  power  taking  possession 
of  a  man's  ?oul  and  touching  her  with  its  glory. 

"  'Tana !"  he  said  very  softly,  in  a  tone  she  had  never 
before  heard  Dan  Overton  use — a  tone  hushed  and  rev- 
erent and  appealing.  "Tana!" 

Did  he  guess  all  the  stormy  emotions  locked  alone  in  the 
girl's  heart,  and  wearing  out  her  strength  ?  Did  he  guess 
all  the  childish  longing  to  feel  strong,  loving  arms 
around  her  as  a  shield?  His  utterance  of  her  name 
drew  her  to  him.  His  arm  fell  around  her  shoulders, 
and  her  head  was  bowed  against  his  breast.  The  hat 
she  wore  had  fallen  to  the  ground,  and  as  he  bent  over 
her,  his  hand  caressed  her  hair  tenderly,  but  there  was 
more  of  moody  regret  than  of  joy  in  his  face. 

Tana,  my  girl !    poor  little  girl !"  he  said  softly. 

But  she  shook  her  head. 

"No — not  so  poor  now,"  she  half  whispered  and  looked 
up  at  him — "not  so  very  poor." 

Then  she  uttered  a  half -strangled  scream  of  terror 
and  broke  away  from  him;  for  across  his  shoulder  she 
saw  a  face  peering  at  her  from  the  shadows  of  the  over- 
hanging bushes  above  them,  a  white,  desperate  face,  at 
sight  of  which  she  staggered  back  and  would  have 
fallen  had  Overton  not  caught  her. 

He  had  not  seen  the  cause  of  her  alarm,  and  for  one 
instant  thought  it  was  himself  from  whom  she  shrank. 

"Tell  me — what  is  it?"  he  demanded.  "'Tana,  speak 
to  me !" 

She  did  not  speak,  but  a  rustle  in  the  bushes  above 
them  caught  his  ear ;  and  looking  up,  he  saw  a  form  pass 
lightly  through  the  shadows  and  away  from  them.  He 
could  not  tell  whether  it  was  an  Indian,  a  white  man, 
or  even  an  animal  scampering  off  that  way  through  the 


176  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

bushes.  But  anything  that  spied  like  that  and  ran  when 
discovered  was  a  thing  te  shoot  at.  He  dropped  his 
hand  to  his  revolver,  but  she  caught  his  arm. 

"No,  Dan !    Oh,  don't— don't  shoot  him !" 

He  stared  at  her,  conscious  that  it  was  no  ordinary 
fear  that  whitened  her  face.  What  did  it  mean?  She 
herself  had  just  come  from  the  woods — pale,  agitated, 
and  with  only  a  semblance  of  flower  gathering  to  explain 
her  absence.  Had  she  met  some  one  there — some  one 
who — 

He  let  go  of  her  and  started  to  run  up  the  side  of  the 
steep  bank ;  but  swiftly  as  he  moved,  she  caught  him  and 
clung  to  him,  half  sobbing. 

"Don't  go !  Oh,  Dan,  let  him  go  I"  she  begged,  and  her 
grasp  made  it  impossible  for  him  to  go  unless  he  picked 
her  up  and  carried  her  along. 

He  stooped,  took  her  head  roughly  in  his  hands,  and 
turned  her  face  up,  so  that  the  light  would  fall  upon  it. 

"Him!  Then  you  know  who  it  is?"  he  said,  grimly. 
"What  sort  of  business  is  this,  'Tana?  Are  you  going 
to  tell  me?" 

But  she  only  crouched  closer  to  him,  and,  sobbing, 
begged  him  not  to  go.  Once  he  tried  to  break  away 
but  lost  his  footing,  and  the  soil  and  bits  of  boulders 
went  clattering  down  past  her. 

With  a  muttered  oath  of  impatience,  he  gave  up  the 
pursuit,  and  stared  down  at  her  with  an  expression  more 
bitter  than  any  she  had  ever  seen  on  his  face  before. 

"So  you  are  bound  to  protect  him,  are  you?"  he  asked, 
coldly.  "Very  well.  But  if  you  value  him  so  highly  you 
had  better  keep  him  clear  of  this  camp,  else  he'll  find 
himself  ready  for  a  box.  Come!  get  up  and  go  to  the 
tents.  That  is  a  better  place  for  you  than  here.  Your 


THE  TRACK  IN  THE  FOREST  177 

coming  out  here  this  evening  has  been  a  mistake  all 
around — or  else  mine  has.  I  wish  to  Heaven  I  could 
undo  it  all." 

She  stood  a  little  apart  from  him,  but  her  hand  was 
still  outstretched  and  clasping  his  arm. 

"All,  Dan  ?"  she  asked,  and  her  mouth  trembled.  But 
his  own  lips  were  firm  enough,  as  he  nodded  his  head 
and  looked  at  her. 

"All,"  he  said  briefly.  "Go  now;  and  here  are  your 
flowers  for  which  you  hunted  so  long  in  the  woods." 

He  stooped  to  pick  them  up  for  her  from  where  they 
had  fallen — the  white,  fragrant  things  he  had  thought  so 
beautiful  as  she  came  toward  him  with  them  in  the 
moonlight. 

But  as  he  lifted  them  from  the  bank,  where  they  were 
scattered,  he  saw  something  else  there  which  was  nei- 
ther beautiful  nor  fragrant,  but  over  which  he  bent  with 
earnest  scrutiny.  An  ordinary  looking  piece  of  shale  or 
stone  it  would  have  seemed  to  an  inexperienced  eye, 
a  thing  with  irregular  veins  of  a  greenish  appearance, 
and  the  green  dotted  plainly  with  yellow — so  plainly 
as  to  show  even  in  the  moonlight  the  nature  of  the  find. 

He  turned  to  the  girl  and  reached  it  to  her  with  the 
flowers. 

"There !  When  my  foot  slipped  I  broke  off  that  bit 
of  'float'  from  the  ledge,"  he  said  curtly.  "Show  it  to 
Harris.  We  have  found  the  gold  ore,  and  I'll  stake  out 
the  claims  to-night.  You  can  afford  to  leave  for  civ- 
ilization now  as  soon  as  you  please,  I  reckon,  for  your 
work  in  the  Kootenai  country  is  over.  Your  fortune 
is  made." 


ITS  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

NEW-COMERS. 

Many  days  went  by  after  that  before  more  time  was 
given  to  the  hunting  of  gold  in  that  particular  valley  of 
the  Kootenai  lands;  for  before  another  day  broke,  the 
squaw  spoke  at  the  door  of  Overton's  tent  and  told  him 
the  girl  was  sick  with  fever,  that  she  talked  as  a  little 
child  babbles  and  laughs  at  nothing. 

He  went  with  her,  and  the  face  he  had  seen  so  pale 
in  the  moonlight  was  flushed  a  rosy  red,  and  her  arms 
tossed  meaninglessly,  while  she  muttered — muttered ! 
Sometimes  her  words  were  of  the  gold,  and  of  flowers. 
He  even  heard  his  name  on  her  lips,  but  only  once;  and 
then  she  cried  out  that  he  hurt  her.  She  was  ill — very 
ill ;  he  could  see  that,  and  help  must  be  had. 

He  went  for  it  as  swiftly  as  a  boat  could  be  sped  over 
the  water.  During  the  very  short  season  of  waiting  for 
the  doctor  and  Mrs.  Huzzard,  he  wrote  to  Lyster,  and 
secured  some  Indians  for  work  needed.  If  the  doctor 
thought  her  able  for  the  journey,  he  meant  to  have  her 
brought  back  in  a  boat  to  Sinna  Ferry,  where  she  would 
have  something  more  substantial  than  canvas  walls  about 
her. 

But  the  doctor  did  not.  He  was  rather  mystified  by 
her  sudden  illness,  as  there  had  been  no  forewarnings 
of  it.  That  it  was  caused  by  some  shock  was  possible ; 
and  that  it  was  serious  was  beyond  doubt. 


NEW-COMERS  179 

The  entire  party,  and  especially  Mrs.  Huzzard,  were 
taken  aback  by  rinding  a  newly  arrived,  self-imposed 
guardian  at  the  door  of  'Tana's  tent.  It  was  the  blanket- 
draped  figure  of  old  Akkomi,  and  his  gaily  painted  canoe 
was  pulled  up  on  the  bank  of  the  creek. 

"I  heard  on  the  wind  the  child  was  sick,"  he  said 
briefly  to  Overton.  "I  come  to  ask  if  you  needed  help." 

But  Overton  looked  at  him  suspiciously.  It  was  im- 
possible that  he  could  have  heard  of  her  illness  so  soon, 
though  he  might  have  heard  of  her  presence  there. 

"Were  any  of  your  people  here  at  nightfall  yester- 
day?" he  asked.  The  old  fellow  shook  his  head. 

"No,  none  of  my  people,"  he  said  briefly;  then  he 
puffed  away  at  his  pipe,  and  looked  approvingly  at  Mrs. 
Huzzard,  who  tried  to  pass  him  without  turning  her 
back  to  him  at  all,  and  succeeded  in  making  a  circuit 
bearing  some  relation  to  progress  made  before  a  throne, 
though  the  relationship  was  rather  strained.  His  ap- 
proving eyes  filled  her  with  terror ;  for,  much  as  she  had 
reveled  in  Indian  romances  (on  paper)  in  her  youth,  she 
had  no  desire  to  take  any  active  part  in  them  in  her  mid- 
dle age. 

And  so,  with  the  help  of  the  doctor  and  Mrs.  Huzzard, 
they  commenced  the  nursing  of  'Tana  back  to  con- 
sciousness and  health.  Night  after  night  Dan  walked 
alone  in  the  waning  moonlight,  his  heart  filled  with  re- 
morse and  blame  for  which  he  could  find  no  relief.  The 
gathering  of  the  gold  had  no  longer  allurements  for  him. 

But  he  moved  Harris'  tent  on  to  one  of  the  claims, 
and  he  cut  small  timber,  and  in  a  day  and  a  half  had  a 
little  log  house  of  two  rooms  put  up  and  chinked  with 
dry  moss  and  roofed  with  bark,  that  'Tana  might  have 
a  home  of  her  own,  and  have  it  close  to  where  the  ore 


ISO  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

streaked  with  gold  had  been  found.  Then  he  sent  the 
Indians  up  the  river  again,  and  did  with  his  own  hands 
all  labor  needed  about  the  camp. 

"You'll  be  sick  yourself,  Overton,"  growled  the  doctor, 
who  slept  in  the  tent  with  him,  and  knew  that  scarce  an 
hour  of  the  night  passed  that  he  was  not  at  the  door  of 
'Tana's  cabin,  to  learn  if  any  help  was  needed,  or  merely 
to  stand  without  and  listen  to  her  voice  as  she  spoke. 

"For  mercy's  sake,  Mr.  Dan,  do  be  a  little  careful  of 
yourself,"  entreated  Mrs.  Huzzard;  ''for  if  you  should 
get  used  up,  I  don't  know  what  I  ever  would  do  here  in 
this  wilderness,  with  'Tana  and  the  paralyzed  man  and 
you  to  look  after — to  say  nothing  of  the  fear  I'm  in  every 
hour  because  o'  that  nasty  beast  of  an  Indian  that  you 
say  is  a  chief.  He  is  here  constant !" 

"Proof  of  your  attractive  powers,"  said  Overton,  re- 
assuringly. "He  comes  to  admire  you,  that  is  all." 

"And  enough,  too!  And  if  it  wasn't  for  you  that's 
here  to  protect  me,  the  good  Lord  only  knows  whether 
I'd  ever  see  a  milliner  shop  or  a  pie  again,  as  long  as  I 
lived.  So  I  am  set  on  your  taking  more  care  of  yourself 
— now  won't  you?" 

"Wait  until  you  have  cause,  before  you  worry,"  he 
advised,  "I  don't  look  like  a  sick  man,  do  I?" 

"You  don't  look  like  a  well  one,  anyway,"  she  said, 
looking  at  him  carefully;  "and  you  don't  look  as  I  ever 
saw  you  look  before.  You  are  as  hollow  eyed  as  though 
you  had  been  sick  yourself  for  a  month.  Altogether, 
I  think  your  coming  out  here  to  camp  in  the  wild  woods 
has  been  a  big- mistake." 

"It  looks  like  it  just  now,"  he  agreed,  and  his  eyes, 
tired  and  troubled,  looked  past  her  into  the  cabin  where 
'Tana  lay.  "Does  she  seem  better?" 


NEW-COMERS  181 

"Just  about  the  same.  Eight  days  now  since  she  was 
took  down ;  and  the  doctor,  he  said  to-morrow  would  be 
the  day  to  hope  for  a  change,  either  for  the  better  or — " 

But  the  alternative  was  not  a  thing  easy  for  the  good 
soul  to  contemplate,  and  she  left  the  sentence  unfinished 
and  disappeared  into  the  cabin  again,  while  the  man 
outside  dropped  his  head  in  his  hands,  feeling  the  most 
helpless  creature  in  all  the  world. 

"Better  to-morrow,  or — worse;"  that  was  what  Mrs. 
Huzzard  meant,  but  could  not  utter.  Better  or  worse! 
And  if  the  last,  she  might  be  dying  now,  each  minute! 
And  he  was  powerless  to  help  her — powerless  even  to 
utter  all  the  regret,  the  remorse,  the  heart-aching  sor- 
row that  was  with  him,  for  her  ears  were  closed  to  the 
sense  of  words,  and  his  lips  were  locked  by  some  key 
of  some  past. 

His  own  judgment  on  himself  was  not  light  as  he 
went  over  in  his  mind  each  moment  of  their  hours  to-, 
gether.  Poor  little  Tana!  poor  little  stray! 

"I  promised  not  to  question  her ;  yes,  I  promised  that, 
or  she  would  never  have  left  the  Indians  with  me.  And 
I — I  was  savage  with  her,  just  because  she  would  not 
tell  me  what  she  had  a  perfect  right  to  keep  from  me  if 
she  chose.  Even  if  it  was — a  lover,  what  right  had  I  to 
object?  What  right  to  hold  her  hands — to  say  all  the 
things  I  said?  If  she  were  a  woman,  I  could  tell  her 
all  I  think — all,  and  let  her  judge.  But  not  as  it  is — not 
to  a  girl  so  young — so  troubled — so  much  of  a  stray. 
Oh,  God!  she  shall  never  be  a  stray  again,  if  only  she 
gets  well.  I'd  stay  here  digging  forever  if  I  could  only 
send  her  out  in  the  world  among  people  who  will  make 
her  happy.  And  she — the  child,  the  child!  said  she 
would  rather  live  here  as  we  did  than  to  have  the  gold 


182  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

that  would  make  her  rich.  God !  it  is  hard  for  a  man  to 
forget  that,  no  matter  what  duty  says." 

So  his  thoughts  would  ramble  on  each  day,  each 
night,  and  his  restlessness  grew  until  Harris  took  to 
watching  him  with  a  great  pity  in  his  eyes,  and  mutely 
asked  each  time  he  entered  if  hope  had  grown  any 
stronger. 

By  the  request  of  Mrs.  Huzzard  they  had  moved  Har- 
ris into  the  other  room  of  the  cabin,  because  of  a  rain 
which  fell  one  night,  and  reminded  them  that  his  earthen 
floor  might  prove  injurious  to  his  health.  Mrs.  Huz- 
zard declared  she  was  afraid,  with  that  room  empty; 
and  Harris,  though  having  a  partially  dead  body,  had 
at  least  a  living  soul,  and  she  greatly  preferred  his 
presence  to  the  spiritless  void  and  the  fear  of  Indian  oc- 
cupancy. 

So  she  shared  the  room  with  Tana,  and  the  doctor  and 
Overton  used  one  tent,  while  the  squaw  used  the  other. 
All  took  turns  watching  at  night  beside  the  girl,  who 
never  knew  one  from  the  other,  but  who  talked  of  gold 
— gold  that  was  too  heavy  a  load  for  her  to  carry — gold 
that  ran  in  streams  where  she  tried  to  find  water  to  drink 
and  could  not — gold  that  Dan  thought  was  better  than 
friends  or  their  pretty  camp.  And  over  those  woes  she 
would  moan  until  frightened  from  them  by  ghosts,  the 
ghosts  she  hated,  and  which  she  begged  them  so  pit- 
eously  to  keep  out  of  her  sight. 

So  they  had  watched  her  for  days,  and  toward  the 
evening  of  the  eighth  Overton  was  keeping  an  ever- 
watchful  ear  for  the  Indian  and  the  doctor  who  had 
gone  personally  to  fetch  needed  medicines  from  the  set- 
tlement. 


NEW-COMERS  183 

Akkomi  was  there  as  usual.  Each  day  he  would 
come,  sit  in  the  doorway  of  the  Harris  cabin  for  hours, 
and  contemplate  the  helpless  man  there.  When  evening 
arrived  he  would  enter  his  canoe  and  go  back  to  his  own 
camp,  which  at  that  time  was  not  more  than  five  miles 
away. 

Overton,  fearing  that  Harris  would  be  painfully  an- 
noyed by  the  presence  of  this  self-invited  visitor,  offered 
to  entertain  him  in  his  own  tent,  if  Harris  preferred. 
But  while  Harris  looked  with  no  kindly  eye  on  the  old 
fellow,  he  signified  that  the  Indian  should  remain,  if  he 
pleased.  This  was  a  decision  so  unexpected  that  Over- 
ton  asked  Harris  if  he  had  ever  met  Akkomi  before. 

He  received  an  affirmative  nod,  which  awakened  his 
curiosity  enough  to  make  him  question  the  Indian. 

The  old  fellow  nodded  and  smoked  in  silence  for  a 
little  while  before  making  a  reply;  then  he  said: 

"Yes,  one  summer,  one  winter  ago,  the  man  worked 
in  the  hills  beyond  the  river.  Our  hunters  were  there 
and  saw  him.  His  cabin  is  there  still." 

"Who  was  with  him?" 

"White  man,  stranger,"  answered  Akkomi  briefly. 
"This  man  stranger,  too,  in  the  Kootenai  country — 
stranger  from  away  somewhere  there,"  and  he  pointed 
vaguely  toward  the  east.  "Name — Joe — so  him  called." 

"And  the  other  man?" 

"Other  man  stranger,  too — go  way — never  come  back. 
This  one  go  away,  too;  but  he  come  back." 

"And  that  is  all  you  know  of  them?" 

"All.  Joe  not  like  Indian  friends,"  and  the  old  fel- 
low's eyes  wrinkled  up  in  the  semblance  of  laughter; 
''too  much  tenderfoot,  maybe." 


184:  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"But  Joe's  partner,"  persisted  Overton,  "he  was  not 
tenderfoot?  He  had  Indian  friends  on  the  Columbia 
River." 

"Maybe,"  agreed  the  old  fellow,  and  his  sly,  beadlike 
eyes  turned  toward  his  questioner  sharply  and  were  as 
quickly  withdrawn,  "maybe  so.  They  hunt  silver  over 
there.  No  good." 

Just  inside  the  door  Harris  sat  straining  his  ears  to 
catch  every  word,  and  Akkomi's  assumption  of  bland 
ignorance  brought  a  rather  sardonic  smile  to  his  face, 
while  his  lips  moved  in  voiceless  mutterings  of  anger. 
Impatience  was  clearly  to  be  'read  in  his  face  as  he  waited 
for  Overton  to  question  further,  and  his  right  hand 
opened  and  closed  in  his  eagerness. 

But  no  other  questions  were  asked  just  then;  for 
Overton  suddenly  walked  away,  leaving  the  crafty-eyed 
Akkomi  alone  in  his  apparent  innocence  of  Joe's  past  or 
Joe's  partner. 

The  old  fellow  looked  after  him  kindly  enough,  but 
shook  his  head  and  smoked  his  dirty  black  pipe,  while 
an  expression  of  undivulged  knowledge  adorned  his 
withered  physiognomy. 

"No,  Dan,  no,"  he  murmured.  "Akkomi  good  friend 
to  little  sick  squaw  and  to  you ;  but  he  not  tell — not  tell 
all  things." 

Then  his  ears,  not  so  keen  as  in  years  gone  by,  heard 
sounds  on  the  water,  sounds  coming  closer  and  closer. 
But  Dan's  younger  ears  had  heard  them  first,  and  it  was 
to  learn  the  cause  that  he  had  left  so  abruptly  and  walked 
to  the  edge  of  the  stream. 

It  was  the  doctor  and  the  Indian  boatman  who  came 
in  sight  first  around  the  bend  of  the  creek.  Back  of  them 
.was  another  canoe,  but  a  much  larger,  much  more  pre- 


NEW-COMERS  185 

tentious  one.  In  this  was  Lyster  and  a  middle-aged  gen- 
tleman of  rather  portly  build,  who  dressed  in  a  fashion 
very  fine  when  compared  with  the  average  garb  of  the 
wilderness. 

Overton  watched  with  some  surprise  the  approach  of 
the  man,  who  was  an  utter  stranger  to  him,  and  yet  who 
bore  a  resemblance  to  some  one  seen  before.  A  certain 
something  about  the  shape  of  the  nose  and  general  con- 
tour of  the  face  seemed  slightly  familiar.  He  had  time 
to  notice,  also,  that  the  hair  was  auburn  in  color,  and 
inclined  to  curl,  and  that  back  of  him  sat  a  female  form. 
By  the  time  he  had  made  these  observations,  their  boat 
had  touched  the  shore,  and  Lyster  was  shaking  his  hand 
vigorously. 

"I  got  your  letter,  telling  me  of  your  big  strike.  It 
caught  me  before  I  was  quite  started  for  Helena,  so  I  just 
did  some  talking  for  you  where  I  thought  it  would  do  the 
most  good,  old  fellow,  and  turned  right  around  and 
came  back.  I've  been  wild  to  hear  about  'Tana.  How  is 
she?  This  is  my  friend,  Mr.  T.  J.  Haydon,  my  uncle's 
partner,  you  know.  He  has  made  this  trip  to  talk  a  little 
business  with  you,  and  when  I  learned  you  were  not 
at  the  settlement,  but  up  here  in  camp,  I  thought  it  would 
be  all  right  to  fetch  him  along." 

"Of  course  it  is  all  right,"  answered  Overton,  assur- 
ingly.  "Our  camp  has  a  welcome  for  your  friend  even 
if  we  haven't  first-class  accommodations  for  him.  And 
is  this  lady  also  a  friend?" 

For  Lyster,  forgetful  of  his  usual  gallantry,  had  al- 
lowed the  doctor  to  assist  the  other  voyager  from  the 
canoe — a  rather  tall  lady  of  the  age  generally  expressed 
as  "uncertain,"  although  the  certainty  of  it  was  an  in- 
disputable fact. 


186  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

A  rather  childish  hat  was  perched  upon  her  thin  but 
carefully  frizzed  hair,  and  over  her  face  floated  a  white 
veil,  that  was  on  a  drawing  string  around  the  crown  of 
the  hat  and  drooped  gracefully  and  chastely  over  the 
features  beneath,  after  the  fashion  of  1860.  A  string 
t>f  beads  adorned  the  thin  throat,  and  the  rest  of  her 
array  was  after  the  same  order  of  elegance. 

The  doctor  and  Lyster  exchanged  glances,  and  Lyster 
was  silently  proclaimed  master  of  ceremonies. 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  said,  easily.  "Pardon  me  that  I  am  neg- 
lectful, and  let  me  introduce  you  to  Miss  Slocum — 
Miss  Lavina  Slocum  of  Cherry  Run.  Ohio.  She  is  the 
cousin  of  our  friend,  Mrs.  Huzzard,  and  was  in  despair 
when  she  found  her  relative  had  left  the  settlement;  so 
we  had  the  pleasure  of  her  company  when  she  heard  we 
were  coming  direct  to  the  place  where  Mrs.  Huzzard  was 
located." 

"She  will  be  glad  to  see  you,  miss,"  said  Overton, 
holding  out  his  hand  to  her  in  very  hearty  greeting. 
"Nothing  could  be  more  welcome  to  this  camp  just  now 
than  the  arrival  of  a  lady,  for  poor  Mrs.  Huzzard  has 
been  having  a  sorry  siege  of  care  for  the  last  week. 
If  you  will  come  along,  I  will  take  you  to  her  at  once." 

Gathering  up  her  shawl,  parasol,  a  fluffy,  pale  pink 
"cloud,"  and  a  homemade  and  embroidered  traveling 
bag,  he  escorted  her  with  the  utmost  deference  to  the 
door  of  the  log  cabin,  leaving  Lyster  without  another 
word. 

That  easily  amused  gentleman  stared  after  the  couple 
with  keen  appreciation  of  the  picture  they  presented. 
Miss  Slocum  had  a  queer,  mincing  gait  which  her  long 
limbs  appeared  averse  to,  and  the  result  was  a  little 
hitchy.  But  she  kept  up  with  Overton,  and  surveyed 


NEW-COMERS  J8T 

him  with  weak  blue  eyes  of  gratitude.  He  appeared  to 
her  a  very  admirable  personage — a  veritable  knight  of 
the  frontier,  possibly  a  border  hero  such  as  every  natural 
woman  has  an  ideal  of. 

But  to  Lyster,  Dan  with  his  arms  filled  with  female 
trappings  and  a  lot  of  pink  zephyr  blown  about  his  face 
and  streaming  over  his  shoulder,  like  a  veritable  banner 
of  Love's  color,  was  a  picture  too  ludicrous  to  be  lost. 
He  gazed  after  them  in  a  fit  of  delight  that  seemed  likely 
to  end  in  apoplexy,  because  he  was  obliged  to  keep  his 
hilarity  silent. 

"Just  look  at  him !"  he  advised,  in  tones  akin  to  a  stage 
whisper.  "Isn't  he  a  great  old  Dan?  And  maybe  you 
think  he  would  not  promenade  beside  that  make-up  just 
as  readily  on  Broadway,  New  York,  or  on  Chestnut 
street,  Philadelphia?  Well,  sir,  he  would!  If  it  was 
necessary  that  some  man  should  go  with  her,  he  would 
be  the  man  to  go,  and  Heaven  help  anybody  he  saw 
laughing!  If  you  knew  Dan  Overton  twenty  years  you 
would  not  see  anything  that  would  give  you  a  better 
key  to  his  nature  than  just  his  manner  of  acting  cavalier 
to  that — wonder." 

But  Mr.  Haydon  did  not  appear  to  appreciate  the 
scene  with  the  same  degree  of  fervor. 

"Ah!"  he  said,  turning  his  eyes  with  indifference  to 
the  two  figures,  and  with  scrutiny  over  the  little  camp- 
site and  primitive  dwellings.  "Am  I  to  understand, 
then,  that  your  friend,  the  ranger,  is  a  sort  of  modern 
Don  Juan,  to  whom  any  order  of  femininity  is  accept- 
able?" 

"No,"  said  Lyster,  facing  about  suddenly.  "And  if 
my  thoughtless  manner  of  speech  would  convey  such 
an  idea  of  Dan  Overton,  then  (to  borrow  one  of  Dan's 


188  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

own  expressions)  I  deserve  to  be  kicked  around  God's 
footstool  for  a  while." 

"Well,  when  you  speak  of  his  devotion  to  any  sort  of 
specimen — " 

"Of  course/'  agreed  Lyster.  "I  see  my  words  were 
misleading — especially  to  one  unaccustomed  to  the  life 
and  people  out  here.  But  Dan,  as  Don  Juan,  is  one  of 
the  most  unimaginable  things !  Why,  he  does  not  seem 
to  know  women  exist  as  individuals.  This  is  the  only 
fault  I  have  to  find  with  him ;  for  the  man  who  does  not 
care  for  some  woman,  or  never  has  cared  for  any  woman, 
is,  according  to  my  philosophy,  no  good  on  earth.  But 
Dan  just  looks  the  other  way  if  they  commence  to  give 
him  sweet  glances — and  they  do,  too!  though  he  thinks 
that  collectively  they  are  all  angels.  Yes,  sir!  let  the 
worst  old  harridan  that  ever  was  come  to  Overton  with 
a  tale  of  virtue  and  misfortune,  and  he  will  take  off  his 
hat  and  divide  up  his  money,  giving  her  a  good  share, 
just  because  she  happens  to  be  a  woman.  That  is  the 
sort  of  devotion  to  women  I  had  reference  to  when  I 
spoke  first ;  the  wonder  to  me  is  that  he  has  not  been 
caught  in  a  matrimonial  noose  long  ere  this  by  some 
thrifty  maid  or  matron.  He  seems  to  me  guileless  game 
for  them,  as  his  sympathy  is  always  so  easily  touched." 

"Perhaps  he  is  keeping  free  from  bonds  that  he  may 
marry  this  ward  of  his  for  whom  he  appears  so  troubled," 
remarked  Mr.  Haydon. 

Lyster  looked  anything  but  pleased  at  the  suggestion. 

"I  don't  think  he  would  like  to  hear  that  said,"  he  re- 
turned. "  Tana  is  only  a  little  girl  in  his  eyes — one  left 
in  his  charge  at  the  death  of  her  own  people,  and  one 
who  appeals  to  him  very  strongly  just  now  because  of 
her  helplessness." 


NEW-COMERS  189 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Haydon,  with  a  slight  smile,  "I  ap- 
pear to  be  rather  unfortunate  in  all  my  surmises  over 
the  people  of  this  new  country,  especially  this  new  camp. 
I  do  not  know  whether  it  is  because  I  am  in  a  stupid 
mood,  or  because  I  have  come  among  people  too  peculiar 
to  be  judged  by  ordinary  standards.  But  the  thing  I  am 
interested  in  above  and  beyond  our  host  and  his  pro- 
t$gte  is  the  gold  mine  he  wrote  you  to  find  a  buyer  for. 
I  think  I  could  appreciate  that,  at  least,  at  its  full  value, 
if  I  was  allowed  a  sight  of  the  output." 

The  doctor  had  hurried  to  the  cabin  even  before  Over- 
ton  and  Miss  Slocum,  so  the  two  gentlemen  were  left  by 
themselves,  to  follow  at  their  leisure.  Mr.  Haydon 
seemed  a  trifle  resentful  at  this  indifferent  reception. 

"One  would  think  this  man  had  been  making  big  deals 
in  gold  ore  all  his  life,  and  was  perfectly  indifferent  as 
to  whether  our  capital  is  to  be  used  to  develop  this  find 
of  his,"  he  remarked,  as  they  approached  the  cabin.  "Did 
you  not  tell  me  he  was  a  poor  man?" 

"Oh,  yes.  Poor  in  gold  or  silver  of  the  United  States 
mint,"  agreed  Lyster,  with  a  strong  endeavor  to  keep 
down  his  impatience  of  this  magnate  of  the  speculative 
world,  this  wizard  of  the  world  of  stocks  and  bonds, 
whom  his  partners  deferred  to,  whose  nod  and  beck 
meant  much  in  a  circle  of  capitalists.  "I  myself,  when 
back  East,"  thought  Lyster  to  himself,  "considered  Hay- 
don a  wonderful  man,  but  he  seems  suddenly  to  have 
grown  dwarfed  and  petty  in  my  eyes,  and  I  wonder  that 
I  ever  paid  such  reverence  to  his  judgment." 

He  smiled  dubiously  to  himself  at  the  consciousness 
that   the   wide   spirit   of   the   West   must   have   already 
changed  his  own  views  of  things  somewhat,  since  once 
he  had  thought  this  marketer  of  mines  superior. 
13 


190  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"But  no  one  out  here  would  think  of  calling  Dan 
Overton  poor,"  he  continued,  "simply  because  he  is  not 
among  the  class  that  weighs  a  man's  worth  by  the  dollars 
he  owns.  He  is  considered  one  of  the  solid  men  of  the 
district — one  of  the  best  men  to  know.  But  no  one 
thinks  of  gauging  his  right  to  independence  by  the 
amount  of  his  bank  account." 

Mr.  Haydon  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  tapped  his 
foot  with  the  gold-headed  umbrella  he  carried. 

"Oh,  yes.  I  suppose  it  seems  very  fine  in  young  minds 
and  a  young  country,  to  cultivate  an  indifference  to 
wealth;  but  to  older  minds  and  civilization  it  grows  to 
be  a  necessity.  Is  that  object  over  there  also  one  of 
the  solid  men  of  the  community?" 

It  was  Akkomi  he  had  reference  to,  and  the  serene 
manner  with  which  the  old  fellow  glanced  over  them, 
and  nonchalantly  smoked  his  pipe  in  the  doorway,  did 
give  him  the  appearance  of  a  fixture  about  the  camp,  and 
puzzled  Lyster  somewhat,  for  he  had  never  before  met 
the  ancient  chief. 

He  nodded  his  head,  however,  saying  "How?"  in 
friendly  greeting,  and  the  Indian  returned  the  civility 
in  the  same  way,  but  gave  slight  attention  to  the  speaker. 
All  the  attention  of  his  little  black  eyes  was  given  to 
the  stranger,  who  did  not  address  him,  and  whose  gaze 
was  somewhat  critical  and  altogether  contemptuous. 

Then  Mrs.  Huzzard,  without  waiting  for  them  to  reach 
the  door,  hurried  out  to  greet  Lyster. 

"I'm  as  glad  as  any  woman  can  be  to  see  you  back 
again,"  she  said  heartily,  "though  it's  more  than  I  hoped 
for  so  soon,  and —  Yes,  the  doctor  says  she's  a  little 
better,  thank  God!  And  your  name  has  been  on  her 
lips  more  than  once — poor  dear! — since  she  has  been 


NEW-COMERS  191 

flighty,  and  all  the  thanks  I  feel  to  you  for  bringing 
Lavina  right  along  I  can  never  tell  you;  for  it  seems  a 
month  since  I  saw  a  woman  last.  I  just  can't  count 
the  squaw!  And  do  you  want  to  come  in  and  look  at 
our  poor  little  girl  now?  She  won't  know  you;  but  if 
you  wish — " 

"May  I?"  asked  Lyster,  gratefully.  Then  he  turned 
to  the  stranger. 

"Your  daughter  back  home  is  about  the  same  age," 
he  remarked.  "Will  you  come  in  ?" 

"Oh,  certainly,"  answered  Mr.  Haydon,  rather  willing 
to  go  anywhere  away  from  the  very  annoying  old  red- 
skin of  the  pipe  and  the  very — very  scrutinizing  eyes. 

The  doctor  and  Overton  had  passed  into  the  room 
where  Harris  was,  and  Mrs.  Huzzard  halted  at  the  door 
with  her  cousin,  so  that  the  two  men  approached  the 
bed  alone.  The  dark  form  of  Akkomi  had  slipped  in 
after  them  like  a  shadow,  but  a  very  alert  one,  for  his 
head  was  craned  forward  that  his  eyes  might  lose  never 
an  expression  of  the  fine  stranger's  face. 

'Tana's  eyes  were  closed,  but  her  lips  moved  voice- 
lessly.  The  light  was  dim  in  the  little  room,  and  Lyster 
bent  over  to  look  at  her,  and  touched  her  hot  forehead 
tenderly. 

"Poor  little  girl !  poor  'Tana !"  he  said,  and  turned  the 
covering  from  about  her  chin  where  she  had  pulled  it. 
He  had  seen  her  last  so  saucy,  so  defiant  of  all  his  wishes, 
and  the  change  to  this  utter  helplessness  brought  the 
quick  tears  to  his  eyes.  He  clasped  her  hand  softly  and 
turned  away. 

"It  is  too  dark  in  here  to  see  anything  very  clearly," 
said  the  stranger,  who  bent  toward  her  slightly,  with  his 
hat  in  his  hand. 


192  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

Then  Akkomi,  who  had  intercepted  the  light  some- 
what, moved  from  the  foot  of  the  bed  to  the  stranger's 
side,  and  a  little  sunshine  rifted  through  the  small  door- 
way and  outlined  more  clearly  the  girl's  face  on  the 
pillow. 

The  stranger,  who  was  quite  close  to  her,  uttered  a 
sudden  gasping  cry  as  he  saw  her  face  more  clearly,  and 
drew  back  from  the  bed. 

The  dark  hand  of  the  Indian  caught  his  white  wrist 
and  held  him,  while  with  the  other  hand  he  pointed  to 
the  curls  of  reddish  brown  clustering  around  the  girl's 
pale  forehead,  and  from  them  to  the  curls  on  Mr.  Hay- 
don's  own  bared  head.  They  were  not  so  luxuriant  as 
those  of  the  girl,  but  they  were  of  the  same  character, 
almost  the  same  color,  and  the  vague  resemblance  to 
something  familiar  by  which  Overton  had  been  im- 
pressed was  at  once  located  by  the  old  Indian  the  mo- 
ment the  stranger  lifted  the  hat  from  his  head. 

"Sick,  maybe  die,"  said  Akkomi,  in  a  voice  that  was 
almost  a  whisper — "die  away  from  her  people,  away 
from  the  blood  that  is  as  her  blood,"  and  he  pointed  to 
the  blue  veins  on  the  white  man's  wrist. 

With  an  exclamation  of  fear  and  anger,  Mr.  Haydon 
flung  off  the  Indian's  hand. 

Lyster,  scarce  hearing  the  words  spoken,  simply 
thought  the  old  fellow  was  drunk,  and  was  about  to 
interfere,  when  the  girl,  as  though  touched  by  the  con- 
test above  her,  turned  mutteringly  on  the  pillow  and 
opened  her  unconscious  eyes  on  the  face  of  the  stranger. 

"See!"  said  the  Indian.     "She  looks  at  you." 

"Ah!  Great  God!"  muttered  the  other  and  staggered 
back  out  of  the  range  of  the  wide-open  eyes. 


NEW-COMERS  193 

Lyster,  puzzled,  astonished,  came  forward  to  question 
his  Eastern  friend,  who  pushed  past  him  rudely,  blindly, 
and  made  his  way  out  into  the  sunshine. 

Akkomi  looked  after  him  with  a  gratified  expression 
on  his  dark,  wrinkled  old  face,  and  bending  over  the  girl, 
he  muttered  in  a  soothing  way  words  in  the  Indian 
tongue,  as  though  to  quiet  her  restlessness  with  Indian 
witchery. 


194:  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 


CHAPTER  XV. 

SOMETHING  WORSE  THAN   A   GOLD   CRISIS. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  your  friend?"  asked  Over- 
ton,  as  Lyster  stood  staring  after  Mr.  Haydon,  who 
walked  alone  down  the  way  they  had  come  from  the 
boats.  "Is  one  glimpse  of  our  camp  life  enough  to  drive 
him  to  the  river  again?" 

"No,  no — that  is — well,  I  don't  just  know  what  ails 
him,"  confessed.  Lyster,  rather  lamely.  "He  went  in 
with  me  to  see  'Tana,  and  seems  all  upset  by  the  sight 
of  her.  She  does  look  very  low,  Dan.  At  home  he  has 
a  daughter  about  her  age,  who  really  resembles  her  a  lit- 
tle— as  he  does — a  girl  he  thinks  the  world  of.  Maybe 
that  had  something  to  do  with  his  feelings.  I  don't 
know,  though;  never  imagined  he  was  so  impressionable 
to  other  people's  misfortunes.  And  that  satanic-looking 
old  Indian  helped  make  things  uncomfortable  for  him." 

"Who— Akkomi?" 

"Oh,  that  is  Akkomi,  is  it  ?  The  old  chief  who  was  too 
indisposed  to  receive  me  when  I  awaited  admittance  to 
his  royal  presence !  Humph !  Well,  he  seemed  lively 
enough  a  minute  ago — said  something  to  Haydon  that 
nearly  gave  him  fits;  and  then,  as  if  satisfied  with  his 
deviltry,  he  collapsed  into  the  folds  of  his  blanket  again, 
and  looks  bland  and  innocent  as  a  spring  lamb  at  the  pres- 
ent speaking.  Is  he  grand  chamberlain  of  your  estab- 


WORSE  THAN  A  GOLD  CRISIS          195 

lishment  here?  Or  is  he  a  medicine  man  you  depend  on 
to  cure  Tana  ?" 

"Akkomi  said  something  to  Mr.  Haydon?"  asked 
Overton,  incredulously.  "Nonsense!  It  could  not  have 
been  anything  Haydon  would  understand,  anyway,  for 
Akkomi  does  not  speak  English." 

Lyster  looked  at  him  from  the  corner  of  his  eyes,  and 
whistled  rather  rudely. 

"Now,  it  is  not  necessary  for  any  reason  whatever, 
for  you  to  hide  the  accomplishments  of  your  noble  red 
friend,"  he  remarked.  "You  are  either  trying  to  gull 
me,  or  Akkomi  is  trying  to  gull  you — which  is  it  ?" 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  demanded  Overton,  impatiently. 
"You  look  as  though  there  may  be  a  grain  of  sense  in 
the  immense  amount  of  fool  stuff  you  are  talking.  Ak- 
komi, maybe,  understands  English  a  little  when  it  is 
spoken ;  but,  like  many  another  Indian  who  does  the 
same,  he  will  not  speak  it.  I  have  known  him  for  two 
years,  in  his  own  camp  and  on  the  trail,  and  I  have 
never  yet  heard  him  use  English  words." 

"Well,  I  have  not  had  the  felicity  of  even  a  two- 
hour  acquaintance  with  his  royal  chieftainship/'  re- 
marked Lyster,  "but  during  the  limited  space  of  time  I 
have  been  allowed  to  gaze  on  him  I  am  confident  I  heard 
him  use  five  English  words,  and  use  them  very  naturally." 

"Can  you  tell  me  what  they  were?" 

"Certainly ;  and  I  see  I  will  have  to — and  maybe  bring 
proof  to  indorse  me  before  you  will  quite  credit  what  I 
tell  you,"  answered  Lyster,  with  an  amused  expression. 
"You  can  scarcely  believe  a  tenderfoot  has  learned  more 
of  your  vagabond  reds  than  you  yourself  knew,  can  you  ? 
Well,  I  distinctly  heard  him  say  to  Mr.  Haydon :  'See ! 
She  looks  at  you.'  But  his  other  mutterings  did  not 


196  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

reach  my  ears;  they  did  Haydon's,  however,  and  drove 
him  out  yonder.  I  tell  you,  Dan,  you  ought  to  chain  up 
your  medicine  men  when  capitalists  brave  the  wilds  of 
the  Kootenai  to  lay  wealth  at  your  doorstep,  for  this 
pet  of  yours  is  not  very  engaging." 

Overton  paid  little  heed  to  the  chaffing  of  his  friend. 
His  gaze  wandered  to  the  old  Indian,  who,  as  Lyster 
said,  was  at  that  moment  a  picture  of  bland  indifference. 
He  was  sunning  himself  again  at  the  door  of  Harris' 
cabin,  and  his  eyes  followed  sleepily  the  form  of  Mr. 
Haydon,  who  had  stopped  at  the  creek,  and  with  hands 
clasped  back  of  him,  was  staring  into  the  swift-flowing 
mountain  stream. 

"Oh,  I  don't  doubt  you,  Max,"  said  Overton,  at  last. 
"Don't  speak  as  if  I  did.  But  the  idea  that  old  Akkomi 
really  expressed  himself  in  English  would  suggest  to  me  a 
vital  necessity,  or  else  that  he  was  becoming  weak  in  his 
old  age ;  for  his  prejudice  against  his  people  using  any 
of  the  white  men's  words  has  been  the  most  stubborn 
thing  in  his  whole  make-up.  And  what  strong  necessity 
could  there  be  for  him  to  address  Mr*  Haydon,  an  utter 
stranger  ?" 

"Don't  know,  I  am  sure — unless  it  is  that  his  interest 
in  'Tana  is  very  strong.  You  know  she  saved  the  life 
of  his  little  grandchild — the  future  chief,  you  said.  And 
I  think  you  are  fond  of  asserting  that  an  Indian  never  for- 
gets a  favor;  so  it  may  be  that  his  satanic  majesty  over 
there  only  wanted  to  interest  a  seemingly  influential 
stranger  in  a  poor  little  sick  girl,  and  was  not  aware 
that  he  took  an  uncanny  way  of  doing  it.  Had  we  bet- 
ter go  down  and  apologize  to  Haydon?" 

"You  can— directly.    Who  is  he?" 


WORSE  THAN  A  GOLD  CRISIS          197 

"Well,  he  is  the  great  moneyed  mogul  at  the  back  of 
the  company  for  whom  you  have  been  doing  some  re- 
sponsible work  out  here.  I  guess  he  is  what  you  call 
a  silent  partner;  while  Mr.  Seldon — my  relation,  you 
know — has  been  the  active  member  in  the  mining  deals. 
They  have  been  friends  this  long  time.  I  have  heard 
that  Seldon  was  to  have  married  Haydon's  sister  years 
ago.  Wedding  day  set  and  all,  when  the  charms  of  a 
handsome  employee  of  theirs  proved  stronger  than  her 
promise,  and  she  was  found  missing  one  morning;  also 
the  handsome  clerk,  as  well  as  a  rather  heavy  sum  of 
money,  to  which  the  clerk  had  access.  Of  course,  they 
never  supposed  that  the  girl  knew  she  was  eloping  with 
a  thief.  But  her  brother — this  one  here — never  forgave 
her.  An  appeal  for  help  came  to  him  once  from  her — 
there  was  a  child  then — but  it  was  ignored,  and  they 
never  heard  from  her  again.  Haydon  was  very  fond  of 
her,  I  believe — fond  and  proud,  and  never  got  over  the 
disgrace  of  it.  Seldon  never  married,  and  he  did  what 
he  could  to  make  her  family  forgive  her,  and  look  after 
her.  But  it  was  no  use,  though  their  regard  for  him 
never  lessened.  So  you  see  they  are  partners  from  away 
back;  and  while  Haydon  is  considerable  of  an  expert  in 
mineralogy,  this  is  the  first  visit  he  has  ever  made  to 
their  works  up  in  the  Northwest.  In  fact,  he  had  not 
intended  coming  so  far  north  just  now;  he  was  waiting 
for  Seldon,  who  was  down  in  Idaho.  But  when  I  got 
your  letter,  and  impressed  on  his  mind  the  good  business 
policy  of  having  the  firm  investigate  at  once,  he  fell  in 
with  the  idea,  and — here  we  are !  Now,  that  is  about  all 
I  can  tell  you  of  Haydon,  and  how  he  came  here." 

"Less  would  have  been  plenty,"  said  Overton,  with  a 
pretended  sigh  of  relief.  "I  didn't  ask  to  be  told  his 


198  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

sister's  love  affairs  or  his  brother-in-law's  failings.  I 
was  asking  about  the  man  himself." 

"Well,  I  don't  know  what  to  tell  you  about  him ;  there 
doesn't  seem  to  be  anything  to  say.  He  is  T.  J.  Haydon, 
a  man  who  inherited  both  money  and  a  genius  for  spec- 
ulation. Not  a  plunger,  you  know;  but  one  of  those 
pursy,  far-seeing  fellows  who  always  put  their  money 
on  the  right  number  and  wait  patiently  until  it  wins.  I 
might  tell  you  that  he  was  sentimental  once  in  his  life, 
and  got  married;  and  I  might  tell  you  of  a  pretty 
daughter  he  has  (and  whom  he  used  to  be  very  much 
afraid  I  would  make  love  to),  but  I  suppose  you  would 
not  be  interested  in  those  exciting  details,  so  I  will  re- 
frain. But  as  to  the  man  himself  and  his  trip  here,  I 
can  only  say,  if  you  have  made  a  strike  up  here,  he  is 
the  very  best  man  I  know  to  get  interested.  Better  even 
than  Seldon,  for  Seldon  always  defers  to  Haydon,  while 
Haydon  always  acts  on  his  own  judgment.  And  say, 
old  fellow,  long  as  we  have  talked,  you  have  not  yet 
told  me  one  word  of  the  new  gold  mine.  I  suspected 
none  of  the  Ferry  folks  knew  of  it,  from  the  general 
opinion  that  your  trip  here  was  an  idiotic  affair.  Even 
the  doctor  said  there  was  no  sane  reason  why  you  should 
have  dragged  Harris  and  'Tana  into  the  woods  as  you 
did.  I  kept  quiet,  remembering  the  news  in  your  letter, 
for  I  was  sure  you  did  not  decide  on  this  expedition 
without  a  good  reason.  Then  the  contents  of  that  let- 
ter I  read  the  night  Harris  collapsed — well,  it  stuck  in 
my  mind,  and  I  got  to  wondering  if  your  bonanza  was 
the  one  he  had  found  before.  Oh,  I've  been  doing  some 
surmising  about  it.  Am  I  right?" 

"Pretty  nearly,"  assented  Overton.  "Of  course  I  knew 
some  of  the  folks  would  raise  a  howl  because  I  let  'Tana 


WORSE  THAN  A  GOLD  CRISIS          199 

come  along ;  but  it  was  necessary,  and  I  thought  it  would 
be  best  for  her  in  the  end,  else  you  may  be  sure — be  very 
sure — I  would  not  have  had  her  come.  She — was  to 
have  gone  back — at  once — the  very  next  day;  but  when 
the  next  day  came,  she  was  not  able.  I  have  done  what 
I  could,  but  nothing  seems  to  count.  She  does  not  get 
(well,  and  the  gold  doesn't  play  much  of  a  figure  in  this 
camp  just  now.  One-third  of  the  find  is  hers,  and  the 
same  for  Harris  and  me ;  but  I'd  give  my  share  cheerfully 
this  minute  if  it  would  buy  back  health  for  her  and  let 
me  see  her  laughing  and  bright  again." 

Lyster  reached  out  his  hand  and  gave  Overton's  arm 
an  affectionate  pressure. 

"Don't  I  know  it,  Dan?"  he  asked  kindly.  "Can't  I 
see  that  you  have  just  worked  and  worried  yourself  sick 
over  her  illness — blaming  yourself,  perhaps — " 

"Yes,  that  is  it — blaming  myself  for — many  things/' 
he  agreed,  brokenly,  and  then  he  checked  himself  as 
Lyster's  curious  glance  was  turned  on  him.  "So  you  see 
I  am  in  no  fit  condition  to  talk  values  with  this  Mr. 
Haydon.  All  my  thoughts  are  somewhere  else.  Doctor 
says  if  she  is  not  better  to-night  she  will  not  get  well. 
That  means  she  will  not  live.  Tell  your  friend  that 
something  worse  than  a  gold  crisis  is  here  just  now,  and 
I  can't  talk  to  him  till  it  is  over.  Don't  mind  if  I'm  even 
a%  bit  careless  with  you,  Max.  Look  after  yourselves 
as  well  as  you  can.  You  are  welcome — you  know  that ; 
but — what's  the  use  of  words?  Perhaps  'Tana  is  dying !" 

And  turning  his  back  abruptly  on  his  friend,  he  walked 
away,  while  Lyster  looked  after  him  with  some  surprise. 

"I  seem  to  be  dropped  by  everybody,"  he  remarked, 
"first  Haydon  and  now  Dan.  But  I  don't  believe  there 
is  danger  of  her  dying.  I  won't  believe  it!  Dan  has 


200  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

worried  himself  sick  and  fearful  during  these  terrible 
days,  but  I'll  do  my  share  now  and  let  him  get  some  rest 
and  sleep.  Tana  die!  I  can't  think  it.  But  I  care  ten 
times  more  for  Dan,  just  because  of  his  devotion  to  her. 
I  wonder  what  he  would  think  if  he  knew  why  I  wanted 
her  to  go  to  school,  or  how  much  she  was  in  my  mind 
every  hour  I  was  gone.  I  felt  like  telling  him  just  now, 
but  better  not — not  yet.  He  thinks  she  is  only  a  little 
child  yet-  Dear  old  Dan!" 

He  entered  the  cabin  and  spoke  to  Harris,  whom  he 
had  not  seen  before,  and  who  looked  with  pleasure  at  him,, 
though,  as  ever,  speechless  and  moveless,  but  for  that 
nod  of  his  head  and  the  bright,  quick  glance  of  his  eyes. 

From  him  he  went  again  to  'Tana;  but  she  lay  still 
and  pale,  with  closed  eyes  and  no  longer  muttering. 

"There  ain't  a  blessed  thing  you  can  do,  Mr.  Max," 
said  Mrs.  Huzzard,  in  a  wheezing  whisper;  "but  if  there 
is,  you  may  be  sure  I'll  let  you  know  and  glad  to  do  it. 
Lavina  says  she's  going  to  help  me  to  a  rest;  and  you 
must  help  Dan  Overton,  for  slept  he  has  not,  and  I  know 
it,  these  eight  nights  since  I've  been  here.  And  if  that 
ain't  enough  to  kill  a  man !" 

"Sure  enough.  But  now  that  I  am  here,  we  will  not 
have  any  night  watches  on  his  part,"  decided  Lyster.  "Be- 
tween Miss  Slocum  and  myself  I  think  we  can  manage  to 
do  some  very  creditable  nursing," 

"I  am  willing  to  do  my  best,"  said  Miss  Lavina,  with 
a  shrinking  glance  toward  Flap- Jacks,  who  just  slouched 
past  with  a  bucket  of  water;  "but  I  must  confess  I  do 
feel  a  timidity  in  the  presence  of  these  sly-looking  In- 
dians. And  if  at  night  I  can  only  be  sure  none  of  them 
are  very  close,  I  may  be  able  to  watch  this  poor  girl  in- 
stead of  watching  for  them  with  their  tomahawks." 


WORSE  THAN  A  GOLD  CRISIS          201 

"Never  fear  while  I  am  detailed  as  guard,"  answered 
Lyster,  reassuringly.  "They  will  reach  you  only  over 
my  dead  body." 

"Oh,  but — "  and  the  timid  one  arose  as  if  for  instant 
flight,  but  was  held  by  Mrs.  Huzzard. 

"Now,  now !"  she  said  reprovingly  to  the  young  fellow, 
"it's  noways  good-natured  of  you  to  make  us  more 
scared  of  the  dirty  things  than  we  are  naturally.  But, 
Lavina,  I'll  go  bail  that  he  never  yet  has  seen  a  dead 
body  of  their  killing  since  he  came  in  the  country.  Lord 
knows,  they  don't  look  as  if  they  would  kill  a  sheep, 
though  they  might  steal  them  fast  enough.  It  ain't  from 
Dan  Overton  that  you  ever  learned  to  scare  women,  Mr. 
Max ;  you  wouldn't  catch  him  at  such  tricks." 

"Now  I  beg  that  whatever  you  do,  Mrs.  Huzzard,  you 
will  not  compare  me  to  that  personage,"  objected  Lyster; 
"for  I  am  convinced  that  anything  human  would  in  your 
eyes  suffer  by  such  a  comparison.  Great  is  Dan  in  the 
camp  of  the  Kootenais !" 

Mrs.  Huzzard  only  laughed  at  his  words,  but  Miss 
Lavina  did  not.  She  even  let  her  eyes  wander  again  to 
Akkomi,  in  order  to  show  her  disapproval  of  frivolous 
comment  on  Mr.  Overton;  a  fact  Lyster  perceived  and 
was  immensely  amused  by. 

"She  has  set  her  covetous  maidenly  eyes  on  him,  and 
if  she  doesn't  marry  him  before  the  year  is  over,  he  will 
have  to  be  clever,"  he  decided,  as  he  left  them  and  went 
to  look  up  Haydon.  "Serves  Dan  right  if  she  did,  for 
he  never  gives  any  other  fellow  half  a  chance  with  the 
old  ladies.  The  rest  of  us  have  to  be  content  with  the 
young  ones." 


202  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THROUGH    THE   NIGHT. 

The  soft  dusk  of  the  night  had  fallen  over  the  northern 
lands,  and  the  pale  stars  had  gleamed  for  hours  on  the 
reflecting  waves  of  mountain  streams.  It  was  late — ' 
near  midnight,  for  the  waning  sickle  of  the  moon  was 
slipping  from  its  dark  cover  in  the  east  and  hanging  like 
a  jewel  of  gold  just  above  the  black  crown  of  the  pines. 
Breaths  from  the  heights  sifted  down  through  the  vast 
woods,  carrying  sometimes  the  dreary  twitter  of  a  bird 
disturbed,  or  the  mellow  call  of  insects  singing  to  each 
other  of  the  summer  night.  All  sounds  of  the  wilder- 
ness were  as  echoes  of  rest  and  utter  content. 

And  in  the  camp  of  the  Twin  Springs,  shadows  moved 
sometimes  with  a  silence  that  was  scarce  a  discord 
in  the  wood  songs  of  repose.  A  camp  fire  glimmered 
faintly  a  little  way  up  from  the  stream,  and  around  it 
slept  the  Indian  boatman,  the  squaw,  and  old  Akkomi, 
who,  to  the  surprise  of  Overton,  had  announced  his  in- 
tention of  remaining  until  morning,  that  he  might  know 
how  the  sickness  went  with  the  little  "Girl-not-Afraid." 

A  dim  light  showed  through  the  chinks  of  'Tana's 
cabin,  where  Miss  Lavina,  the  doctor,  and  Lyster  were 
on  guard  for  the  night.  The  doctor  had  grown  sleepy 
and  moved  into  Han  is'  room,  where  he  could  be  com- 
fortable on  blankets.  Lyster,  watching  the  girl,  was  try- 
ing to  make  himself  think  that  their  watching  was  all 


THROUGH  THE  NIGHT  203 

of  no  use;  her  sleep  seemed  so  profound,  so  healthfully 
natural,  that  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  think,  as  Dan 
did,  that  the  doctor's  worst  prophecy  could  come  true — 
that  out  of  that  sleep  she  might  awake  to  consciousness, 
or  that,  on  the  other  hand,  she  might  drift  from  sleep 
to  lethargy  and  thus  out  of  life. 

Outside  a  man  stood  peering  in  through  a  chink  from 
which  he  had  stealthily  pulled  the  moss.  He  could  not 
see  the  girl's  face,  but  he  could  see  that  of  Lyster  as  he 
bent  over,  listening  to  her  breathing,  and  he  watched 
it  as  if  to  glean  some  reflected  knowledge  from  the  young 
fellow's  earnest  glances. 

He  had  been  there  a  long  time.  Once  he  slipped  away 
for  a  short  distance  and  stood  in  the  deeper  shadows, 
but  he  had  returned,  and  was  listening  to  the  low,  dis- 
jointed converse  of  the  watchers  within,  when  suddenly 
a  tall  form  loomed  up  beside  him  and  a  heavy  hand 
was  dropped  on  his  shoulder. 

"Not  a  word !"  said  a  voice  close  to  his  ear.  "If  ypu 
make  a  noise,  I'll  strangle  you !  Come  along !" 

To  do  otherwise  was  not  easy,  for  the  hand  on  his 
shoulder  had  a  helpful  grip.  He  was  almost  lifted  over 
the  ground  until  they  were  several  yards  from  the  cabin, 
and  out  in  the  clearer  light  of  the  stars. 

"Well,  I  protest,  Mr.  Overton,  that  your  manner  is  not 
very  pleasant,"  remarked  the  captive,  as  he  was  released 
and  allowed  to  speak.  "Is — is  this  sort  of  threats  a  habit 
of  yours  with  strangers  in  your  camp?" 

Overton,  seeing  him  now  away  from  the  thick  shadows 
of  the  cabin,  gave  a  low  exclamation  of  astonishment  and 
irritation. 

"You — Mr.  Haydon !  Well,  you  must  confess  that  if 
my  threats  are  not  pleasant,  neither  is  it  pleasant  to  find 


204  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

some  one  moving  like  a  spy  around  that  little  girl's  cabin. 
If  you  don't  want  to  be  treated  like  a  spy,  don't  act  like 
one." 

"Well,  it  does  look  queer,  maybe,"  said  the  other, 
lamely.  "I — I  could  not  get  asleep,  and  as  I  was  walking 
around,  it  seemed  natural  to  look  in  the  cabin,  though  I 
did  not  want  to  disturb  them  by  going  in.  I  think  I  heard 
them  say  she  was  improving." 

"Did  they  say  that — lately?"  asked  Overton,  earnestly, 
everything  else  forgotten  for  the  moment  in  his  strong 
desire  for  her  recovery.  "Who  said  it — Miss  Slocum? 
Well,  she  seems  like  a  sensible  woman,  and  I  hope  to 
God  she  is  right  about  this!  Don't  mind  my  roughness 
just  now.  I  was  too  quick,  maybe ;  but  spies  around  a 
new  gold  mine  or  field  are  given  pretty  harsh  treatment 
up  here  sometimes ;  and  you  were  liable  to  suspicion  from 
any  one." 

"No  doubt — no  doubt,"  agreed  the  other,  with  visible 
relief.  "But  to  be  a  suspected  character  is  a  new  role  for 
me — a  bit  amusing,  too.  However,  now  that  you  have 
broached  the  subject  of  this  new  find  of  yours,  I  presume 
Lyster  made  clear  to  you  that  I  came  up  here  for  the 
express  purpose  of  investigating  what  you  have  to  offer, 
with  a  view  to  making  a  deal  with  you.  And  as  my  time 
here  will  be  limited — " 

"Perhaps  to-morrow  we  can  talk  of  it.  I  can't  to- 
night," answered  Overton.  "To  that  little  girl  in  there 
one-third  of  the  stock  belongs;  another  third  belongs  to 
that  paralyzed  man  in  the  other  cabin.  I  have  to  look 
after  the  interests  of  them  both,  and  need  to  have  my  head 
clear  to  do  it.  But  with  her  there  sick — dying  maybe — 
I  can't  think  of  dollars  and  cents." 


THROUGH  THE  NIGHT  205 

"You  mean  to  tell  me  that  the  young  girl  is  joint 
owner  of  a  gold  find  promising  a  fortune?  Why,  I  un- 
derstood Max  to  say  she  was  poor — in  fact,  indebted 
to  you  for  all  care." 

"Max  is  too  careless  with  his  words,"  answered  Over- 
ton,  coldly.  "She  is  in  my  care — yes ;  but  I  do  not  think 
she  will  be  poor." 

"She  has  a  very  conscientious  guardian,  anyway,"  re- 
marked Mr.  Haydon,  "when  it  is  impossible  for  a  man 
even  to  look  in  her  cabin  without  finding  you  on  his  track. 
I  confess  I  am  interested  in  her.  Can  you  tell  me  how  she 
came  in  this  wild  country?  I  did  not  expect  to  find  pretty 
young  white  girls  in  the  heart  of  this  wilderness." 

"I  suppose  not,"  agreed  the  other. 

They  had  reached  the  little  camp  fire  by  this  time,  and 
he  threw  some  dry  sticks  on  the  red  coals.  As  the  blaze 
leaped  up  and  made  bright  the  circle  around  them,  he 
looked  at  the  stranger  and  said,  bluntly : 

"What  did  Akkomi  tell  you  of  her?" 

"Akkomi?" 

"Yes;  the  old  Indian  who  went  in  with  you  to  see 
her." 

"Oh,  that  fellow?     Some  gibberish." 

"I  guess  he  must  have  said  that  she  looks  like  you," 
decided  Overton.  "I  rather  think  that  was  it." 

"Like  me!  Why — how — "  and  Mr.  Haydon  tried  to 
smile  away  the  absurdity  of  such  a  fancy. 

"For  there  is  a  resemblance,"  continued  the  younger 
man,  with  utter  indifference  to  the  stranger's  confusion. 
"Of  course  it  may  not  mean  anything — a  chance  like- 
ness. But  it  is  very  noticeable  when  your  hat  is  off,  and 
it  must  have  impressed  the  old  Indian,  who  seems  to 

14 


206  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

think  himself  a  sort  of  godfather  to  her.  Yes,  I  guess 
that  was  why  he  spoke  to  you." 

"But  her — her  people?  Are  there  only  you  and  these 
Indians  to  claim  her?  She  must  have  some  family — " 

"Possibly,"  agreed  Overton,  curtly.  "If  she  ever  gets 
able  to  answer,  you  can  ask  her.  If  you  want  to  know 
sooner,  there  is  old  Akkomi ;  he  can  tell  you,  perhaps." 

But  Mr.  Haydon  made  a  gesture  of  antipathy  to  any; 
converse  with  that  individual. 

"One  meets  so  many  astonishing  things  in  this 
country,"  he  remarked,  as  though  in  extenuation  of  some- 
thing. "The  mere  presence  of  such  a  savage  in  the  sick 
girl's  room  is  enough  to  upset  any  one  unused  to  this 
border  life — it  upset  me  completely.  You  see,  I  have  a 
daughter  of  my  own  back  East." 

"So  Max  tells  me,"  replied  Overton,  carelessly,  all 
unconscious  of  the  intended  honor  extended  to  him  when 
Mr.  Haydon  made  mention  of  his  own  family  to  a  ranger 
of  a  few  hours'  acquaintance. 

"Yes,"  Haydon  continued,  "and  that  naturally  makes 
one  feel  an  interest  in  any  young  girl  without  home  or 
— relatives,  as  this  invalid  is ;  and  I  would  be  glad  of 
any  information  concerning  her — or  any  hint  of  help 
I  might  be  to  her,  partly  for — humanity's  sake,  and 
partly  for  Max." 

"At  present  I  don't  know  of  any  service  you  could 
render  her,"  said  Overton,  coldly,  conscious  of  a  jarring, 
unpleasant  feeling  as  the  man  talked  to  him.  He  thought 
idly  to  himself  how  queer  it  was  that  he  should  have  an 
instinctive  feeling  of  dislike  for  a  person  who  in  the 
slightest  degree  resembled  'Tana;  and  this  stranger  must 
have  resembled  her  much  before  he  grew  stout  and 
broad  of  face ;  the  hair,  the  nose,  and  other  points  about 


THROUGH  THE  NIGHT  207 

the  features,  were  very  much  alike.  He  did  not  wonder 
that  Akkomi  might  have  been  startled  at  it,  and  made 
comments.  But  as  he  himself  surveyed  Mr.  Haydon's 
features  by  the  flickering  light  of  the  burning  sticks,  he 
realized  how  little  the  likeness  of  outlines  amounted  to 
after  all,  since  not  a  shadow  of  expression  on  the  face 
before  him  was  like  that  of  the  girl  whose  sleep  was 
so  carefully  guarded  in  the  cabin. 

And  then,  with  a  feeling  of  thankfulness  that  it  was 
so,  there  flashed  across  his  mind  the  import  of  the 
stranger's  closing  words — "for  the  sake  of  Max." 

"For  Max,  you  said.  Well,  maybe  I  am  a  little  more 
stupid  than  usual  to-night,  but  I  must  own  up  I  can't 
see  how  a  favor  to  'Tana  could  affect  Max  very  much." 

"You  do  not?" 

"I  tell  you  so,"  said  Overton  curtly,  not  liking  the 
knowing  smile  in  the  eyes  of  the  speaker.  He  did  not 
want  to  be  there  talking  to  him,  anyway.  To  walk 
alone  under  the  stars  was  better  than  the  discord  of  a 
voice  unpleasant.  Under  the  stars  she  had  come  to  him 
that  once — once,  when  she  had  been  clasped  close — 
close!  when  she  had  whispered  words  near  to  his  heart, 
and  their  hands  had  touched  in  the  magnetism  of  troubled 
joy.  Ah!  it  was  best  to  remember  that,  though  death 
itself  follow  after!  A  short,  impatient  sigh  touched  his 
lips  as  he  tried  to  listen  to  the  words  of  the  stranger 
while  his  thoughts  were  elsewhere. 

"And  Seldon  would  do  something  very  handsome  for 
Max  if  he  married  to  suit  him,"  Haydon  was  saying, 
thoughtfully.  "Seldon  has  no  children,  you  know,  and 
if  this  girl  was  sent  to  school  for  a  while,  I  think  it 
would  come  out  all  right — all  right.  I  would  take  a 
personal  interest  to  the  extent  of  talking  to  Seldon  of  it. 


208  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

He  will  think  it  a  queer  place  for  Max  to  come  for  a 
wife;  but  when — when  I  talk  to  him,  he  will  agree. 
Yes,  I  can  promise  it  will  be  all  right." 

"What  are  you  talking  of  ?"  demanded  Overton,  blankly. 
He  had  not  heard  one-half  of  a  very  carefully  worded  idea 
of  Mr.  Haydon's.  "Max  married!  To  whom?" 

"You  are  not  a  very  flattering  listener,"  remarked  the 
other,  dryly,  "and  don't  show  much  interest  in  the  love 
affairs  of  your  prottgfe;  but  it  was  of  her  I  was  speak- 
ing." 

"You — you  would  try  to  marry  her  to  Max  Lyster — 
marry  her!"  and  his  voice  sounded  in  his  own  ears  as 
strange  and  far  away. 

"Well,  it  is  not  an  unusual  prophecy  to  make  of  a 
young  girl,  is  it?"  asked  Mr.  Haydon,  with  an  attempt 
to  be  jocular.  "And  I  don't  know  where  she  could  find 
a  better  young  fellow.  From  his  discourses  concerning 
her  on  our  journey  here  and  his  evident  devotion  since 
our  arrival,  I  fancy  the  idea  is  not  so  new  to  him  as  it 
seems  to  be  to  you,  Mr.  Overton." 

"Nonsense!  when  she  is  well,  they  quarrel  as  often  as 
they  agree — oftener." 

"That  is  no  proof  that  he  is  not  in  love  with  her — 
and  why  not?  She  is  a  pretty  girl,  a  bright  girl,  he 
says,  and  of  good  people — " 

"He  knows  nothing  about  her  people,"  interrupted 
Overton. 

"But  you  do?" 

"I  know  all  it  has  been  necessary  for  me  to  know," 
and,  in  spite  of  himself,  he  could  not  speak  of  'Tana  to 
this  man  without  a  feeling  of  anger  at  his  persistence. 
"But  I  can't  help  being  rather  surprised,  Mr.  Haydon, 
that  you  should  so  quickly  agree  that  a  wise  thing  for 


THROUGH  THE  NIGHT  209 

your  partner's  nephew  to  do  is  to  turn  from  all  the  cul- 
tured, intelligent  girls  he  must  know,  and  look  for  a 
wife  among  the  mining  camps  of  the  Kootenai  hills. 
And,  considering  the  fact  that  you  approve  of  it,  with- 
out ever  having  heard  her  speak,  without  knowing  in 
the  least  who  or  what  her  family  have  been — I  must  say 
it  is  an  extraordinarily  impulsive  thing  for  a  man  of 
your  reputation  to  do — a  cool-headed,  conservative  busi- 
ness man." 

Mr.  Haydon  found  himself  scrutinized  very  closely, 
very  coldly  by  the  ranger,  who  had  all  the  evening  kept 
away  from  him,  and  whom  he  had  mentally  jotted  down 
as  a  big,  careless,  improvident  prospector,  untaught  and 
a  bit  uncouth. 

But  his  words  were  not  uncouth  as  he  launched  them 
at  the  older  man,  and  he  was  no  longer  careless  as  he 
watched  the  perturbation  with  which  they  were  received. 
But  Haydon  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  attempted  to 
look  indifferent. 

"I  remarked  just  now  that  this  was  a  land  of  astonish- 
ing things,"  he  said,  with  a  tolerant  air,  "and  it  surely 
is  so  when  the  most  depraved-looking  redskin  is  allowed 
admittance  to  a  white  girl's  chamber,  while  the  most 
harmless  of  Caucasians  is  looked  on  with  suspicion  if 
he  merely  shows  a  little  human  interest  in  her  welfare.'* 

"Akkomi  is  a  friend  of  her  own  choosing,"  answered 
Overton,  "and  a  friend  who  would  be  found  trusty  if 
he  was  needed.  As  to  you — you  have  no  right,  that  I 
know  of,  to  assume  any  direction  of  her  affairs.  She 
will  choose  her  own  friends — and  her  own  husband — 
when  she  wants  them.  But  while  she  is  sick  and  helpless, 
she  is  under  my  care,  and  even  though  you  were  her 


210  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

father  himself,  your  ideas  should  not  influence  her  future 
unless  she  approved  you." 

With  a  feeling  of  relief  he  turned  away,  glad  to  have 
in  some  way  given  vent  to  the  irritation  awakened  in 
him  by  the  prosperous  gentleman  from  civilization. 

The  prosperous  gentleman  saw  his  form  grow  dim  in 
the  starlight,  and  though  his  face  flushed  angrily  at  first, 
the  annoyance  gave  place  to  a  certain  satisfaction  as  he 
seated  himself  on  a  log  by  the  fire,  and  repeated  Overton's 
final  words: 

"  'Even  though  you  were  her  father  himself!'  Well, 
well,  Mr.  Overtoil !  Your  uncivil  words  have  told  me 
more  than  you  intended — namely,  that  your  own  knowl- 
edge as  to  who  her  father  was,  or  is,  seems  very  slight. 
So  much  the  better,  for  one  of  your  unconventional  order 
is  not  the  sort  of  person  I  should  care  to  have  know. 
'Even  though  you  were  her  father  himself.'  Humph ! 
So  he  does  me  the  doubtful  honor  to  suppose  I  may  be? 
It  is  a  nasty  muddle  all  through.  I  never  dreamed  of 
walking  into  such  a  net  as  this.  But  something  must 
be  done,  and  that  is  clear;  no  use  trying  to  shirk  it, 
for  Seldon  is  sure  to  run  across  them  sooner  or  later 
up  here — :sure.  And  if  he  took  a  hand  in  it — as  he 
would  the  minute  he  saw  her — well,  I  could  not  count 
on  his  being  quiet  about  it,  either.  I've  thought  it  all 
out  this  evening.  I've  got  to  get  her  away  myself — get 
her  to  school,  get  her  to  marry  Max,  and  all  so  quietly 
that  there  sha'n't  be  any  social  sensation  about  her  ad- 
vent into  the  family.  I  hardly  know  whether  this  wealth 
they  talk  of  will  be  a  help  or  a  hindrance ;  a  help,  I  sup- 
pose. And  there  need  not  be  any  hitch  in  the  whole 
affair  if  the  girl  is  only  reasonable  and  this  autocratic 
ranger  can  be  ignored  or  bought  over  to  silence.  It 


THROUGH  THE  NIGHT  211 

would  be  very  annoying  to  have  such  family  affairs 
talked  of — annoying  to  the  girl,  also,  when  she  lives 
among  people  who  object  to  scandals.  Gad!  how  her 
face  did  strike  me !  I  felt  as  if  I  had  seen  a  ghost.  And 
that  cursed  Indian!" 

Altogether,  Mr.  Haydon  had  considerable  food  for 
reflection,  and  much  of  it  was  decidedly  annoying;  or 
so  it  seemed  to  Akkomi,  who  lay  in  the  shadow  and 
looked  like  a  body  asleep,  as  were  the  others.  But  from 
a  fold  of  his  blanket  he  could  see  plainly  the  face  of  the 
stranger  and  note  the  perplexity  in  it. 

The  first  tender  flush  of  early  day  was  making  the 
stars  dim  when  the  doctor  met  Overton  between  the  tents 
and  the  cabins,  and  surveyed  him  critically  from  his 
slouch  hat  to  his  boots,  on  which  were  splashes  of  water 
and  fresh  loam. 

"What,  in  the  name  of  all  that's  infernal,  has  taken 
possession  of  you,  Overton?"  he  demanded,  with  as- 
sumed anger  and  real  concern.  "You  have  not  been  in 
bed  all  night.  I  know,  for  I've  been  to  your  tent.  You 
prowl  somewhere  in  the  woods  when  you  ought  to  be  in 
bed,  and  you  are  looking  like  a  ghost  of  yourself." 

"Oh,  I  guess  I'll  last  a  day  or  two  yet,  so  quit  your 
growling;  you  think  you'll  scare  me  into  asking  for 
some  of  your  medicines ;  but  that  is  where  you  will  find 
yourself  beautifully  left.  I  prefer  a  natural  death." 

"And  you  will  find  it,  too,  if  you  don't  mend  your 
ways,"  retorted  the  man  of  the  medicines.  "I  thought 
at  first  it  was  the  care  of  'Tana  that  kept  you  awake 
every  hour  of  every  night;  but  I  see  it  is  just  the  same 
now  when  there  are  plenty  to  take  your  place;  worse — 
for  now  you  go  tramping,  God  only  knows  where,  and 


212  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

come  back  looking  tired,  as  though  you  had  been  racing 
with  the  devil." 

''You  haven't  told  me  how  she  is,"  was  all  the  answer 
he  made  to  this  tirade.  "You  said — that  by  daylight — " 

"There  would  be  a  change — yes,  and  there  is;  only 
a  shadow  of  a  change  as  yet,  but  the  shadow  leans  the 
right  way." 

"The  right  way,"  he  half  whispered,  and  walked  on 
toward  her  cabin.  He  felt  dizzy  and  the  tears  crept  up 
in  his  eyes,  and  he  forgot  the  doctor,  who  looked  after 
him  and  muttered  statements  damaging  to  Dan's  sanity. 

All  the  long  night  he  had  fought  with  himself  to  keep 
away,  to  let  the  others  care  for  her — the  others,  who 
fancied  they  were  giving  him  a  wished-for  rest.  And 
all  the  while  the  desire  of  his  heart  was  to  bar  them  out 
— to  wait,  alone  with  her,  for  the  life  or  death  that  was 
to  come.  He  had  walked  miles  in  his  restlessness,  but 
could  not  have  found  again  the  paths  he  walked  over. 
He  had  talked  with  some  of  the  people  who  were  wake- 
ful in  the  night,  but  could  scarce  have  told  of  any  words 
he  had  said. 

He  had  felt  dazed  by  the  dread  of  what  the  new  day 
would  bring,  and  now  he  looked  up  at  the  morning  star 
with  a  great  thankfulness  in  his  heart.  The  new  day 
had  come,  and  with  it  a  breath  of  hope. 

Miss  Lavina  met  him  at  the  door,  and  whispered  that 
the  doctor  thought  the  fever  had  taken  the  hoped-for 
turn  for  the  better.  'Tana  had  opened  her  eyes  but  a 
moment  beforehand  looked  at  Miss  Slocum  wonder- 
ingly,  but  fell  asleep  again;  she  had  looked  rational,  but 
very  weak. 

"Well,  old  fellow,  I  am  proud  of  myself,"  said  Lyster, 
as  Overton  entered.  "It  took  Miss  Slocum  and  me  only 


THROUGH  THE  NIGHT  213 

one  night  to  bring  'Tana  around  several  degrees  nearer 
health.  We  are  the  nurses!  And  if  she  only  wakes 
conscious — " 

His  words,  or  else  the  intense,  wistful  gaze  of  the 
man  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  must  have  aroused  her,  for 
she  moved  and  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  around  aim- 
lessly, passing  over  the  faces  of  Miss  Slocum,  of  the 
squaw,  and  of  Overton,  until  Lyster,  close  beside  her, 
whispered  her  name.  Then  her  lips  curved  ever  so  little 
in  a  smile  as  her  eyes  met  his. 

"Max!"  she  said,  and  put  out  her  hand  to  him.  As 
his  fingers  clasped  it,  she  turned  her  face  toward  him, 
and  fell  contentedly  asleep  again,  with  her  cheek  against 
his  hand. 

And  Mr.  Haydon,  who  came  in  with  the  doctor  a 
moment  later,  glanced  at  the  picture  they  made,  and 
smiled  meaningly  at  Overton. 

"You  see,  I  was  right,"  he  observed.  "And  do  you 
not  think  it  would  be  a  very  exacting  guardian  who  could 
object?" 

Overton  only  looked  at  Max,  whose  face  had  flushed 
a  little,  knowing  how  significant  his  attitude  must  ap- 
pear to  others.  But  his  hand  remained  in  hers,  and  his 
eyes  turned  to  Dan  with  a  half  embarrassed  confession 
in  them — a  confession  Dan  read  and  understood. 

'Yes,  you  may  well  be  proud,  Max,"  he  said,  answer- 
ing Lyster's  words.  "You  deserve  all  gratitude;  and  I 
hope — I  hope  nothing  but  good  luck  will  come  your 
way." 

Mr.  Haydon,  who  watched  him  with  critical  eyes, 
could  read  nothing  in  his  words  but  kindliest  concern 
for  a  friend. 


2U  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

The  doctor,  who  had  suddenly  got  a  ridiculous  idea 
in  his  head  that  Dan  Overton  was  wearing  himself  out 
on  'Tana's  account,  changed  his  mind  and  silently  called 
himself  a  fool.  He  might  have  known  Dan  had  more 
sense  than  that.  Yet,  what  was  it  that  had  changed  him 
so? 

Twenty-four  hours  later  he  thought  hs  knew. 


MISS  SLOCUM  ON  DEPORTMENT       215 


CHAPTER  XVII.  % 

MISS  SLOCUM'S  IDEAS  REGARDING  DEPORTMENT. 

"So  it  was  a  gold  mine  that  dragged  you  people  up 
into  this  wilderness?  Well,  I've  puzzled  my  mind  a 
good  deal  to  understand  your  movements  lately;  but 
the  finding  of  a  vein  as  rich  as  your  free  gold  promises 
is  enough  to  turn  any  man's  head  for  a  while.  Well, 
well;  you  are  a  lucky  fellow,  Overton." 

"Yes,  I've  no  doubt  that  between  good  luck  and  bad 
luck,  I've  as  much  luck  as  anybody,"  answered  Overton, 
with  a  grimace,  "but  a  week  or  so  ago  you  did  not  think 
me  lucky — you  thought  me  'looney.' ' 

"You  are  more  than  half  right,"  agreed  the  doctor; 
"appearances  justified  me.  My  wife  and  I  stormed  at 
you — behind  your  back — for  carrying  'Tana  with  you 
on  your  fishing  trip ;  it  was  such  an  unheard-of  thing  to 
my  folks,  you  know.  Humph !  I  wonder  what  they  will 
say  when  it  is  known  that  she  was  on  a  prospecting  trip, 
and  that  the  venture  will  result  in  a  gain  to  her  of  dol- 
lars that  will  be  counted  by  the  tens  of  thousands.  By 
George!  it  seems  incredible!  Just  like  a  chapter  from 
the  old  fairy  tales." 

"Yes.  I  find  myself  thinking  about  it  like  that  some- 
times," said  Overton ;  "a  little  afraid  to  lay  plans,  for 
fear  that  after  all  it  may  be  a  dream.  I  never  hoped  much 
for  it;  I  came  under  protest,  and  the  luck  seems  more 
than  I  deserved." 


216  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"Maybe  that  is  the  reason  you  accept  it  in  such  a 
sulky  fashion,"  observed  the  doctor,  "for,  upon  my  soul, 
I  think  I  am  more  elated  over  your  good  fortune  than 
you  are.  You  don't  appear  to  get  up  a  particle  of  enthu- 
siasm because  of  it." 

"Well,  I  have  not  had  an  enthusiastic  lot  of  partners, 
either.  Harris,  here,  not  able  to  move;  'Tana  not  ex- 
pected to  live;  and  I  suddenly  face  to  face  with  all  this 
responsibility  for  them.  It  gave  me  considerable  to 
think  about." 

"You  are  right.  I  only  wonder  you  are  not  gray- 
haired.  A  new  gold-field  waiting  for  you  to  make  it 
known,  and  you  guarding  it  at  the  same  time,  perhaps, 
from  red  tramps  who  come  spying  around.  But  you 
are  lucky,  Dan ;  everything  comes  your  way,  even  a 
capitalist  ready  at  your  word  to  put  up  money  on  the 
strength  of  the  ore  you  have  to  show.  Why,  man,  many 
a  poor  devil  of  a  prospector  has  stood  a  long  siege  with 
starvation,  even  with  gold  ore  in  sight,  just  because  no 
one  with  capital  would  buy  or  back  him." 

"I  know.  I  realize  that;  and,  for  the  sake  of  the 
other  two,  I  am  very  glad  there  need  be  no  waiting  for 
profits." 

"Do  you  know,  Dan,  I  fancy  little  'Tana  is  in  the  way 
of  being  well  cared  for,  even  without  this  good  fortune," 
observed  the  doctor,  looking  at  the  other  in  a  question- 
ing way.  "It  just  occurred  to  me  yesterday  that  that 
fine  young  fellow,  Lyster,  is  uncommonly  fond  of  her. 
It  may  be  simply  because  she  is  ill,  and  he  is  sorry  for 
her;  but  his  devotion  appeared  to  me  to  have  a  senti- 
mental tinge,  and  I  thought  what  a  fine  thing  it  would 
be." 


MISS  SLOCUM  ON  DEPORTMENT       217 

"Very,"  agreed  Overton;  "and  you  are  sentimental 
enough  yourself  to  plan  it  all  out  for  them.  I  guess 
Hay  don  helped  to  put  that  notion  into  your  head,  didn't 
he?" 

The  doctor  laughed. 

"Well,  yes,  he  did  speak  of  Lyster's  devotion  to  your 
protegee,"  he  acknowledged;  "and  you  think  we  are  a 
•couple  of  premature  match-makers,  don't  you?" 

"I  think  maybe  you  had  better  leave  it  for  'Tana  to 
decide,"  answered  Overton,  "and  I  also  think  schools 
will  be  the  first  thing  considered  by  her.  She  is  very 
young,  you  know." 

"Seventeen,  perhaps,"  hazarded  the  doctor;  but  Over- 
ton  did  not  reply. 

He  was  watching  the  canoe  just  launched  by  their 
Indian  boatmen.  They  were  to  take  Mr.  Haydon  back 
again  to  the  Ferry.  He  was  to  send  up  workmen,  and 
Overton  was  to  manage  the  work  for  the  present — or,  at 
least,  until  Mr.  Seldon  could  arrive  and  organize  the 
work  of  developing  the  vein  that  Mr.  Haydon  had 
found  was  of  such  exceeding  richness  that  his  offer 
to  the  owners  had  been  of  corresponding  magnitude. 
Overton  had  promptly  accepted  the  terms  offered;  Har- 
ris agreed  to  them ;  and  even  if  'Tana  should  not,  Dan 
decided  that  out  of  his  own  share  he  could  make  up 
any  added  sum  desired  by  her  for  her  share,  though  he 
had  little  idea  that  she  would  find  fault  with  his  arrange- 
ments. She !  who  had  thought,  that  day  of  the  gold  find, 
that  it  was  better  to  have  their  little  camp  unshared  by 
the  many  whom  gold  would  bring  to  them — that  it  was 
almost  better  to  be  poor  than  to  have  their  happy  life 
changed. 

And  it  was  all  over  now.    Other  people  had  come  and 


218  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

were  close  about  her,  while  he  had  not  seen  her  since 
the  morning  before,  when  she  had  awakened  and  turned 
to  Max.  Well,  he  should  be  satisfied,  so  he  told  himself. 
She  was  going  to  get  well  again.  She  was  going  to  be 
happy.  More  wealth  than  they  had  hoped  for  had  come 
to  her,  and  with  it  she  would,  of  course,  leave  the  hills, 
would  go  into  the  life  of  the  cities,  and  by  and  by  would 
be  glad  to  forget  the  simple,  primitive  life  they  had 
shared  for  the  few  days  of  one  Kootenai  summer.  Well, 
she  would  be  happy. 

And  here  on  the  spot  where  their  pretty  camp  had 
been,  he  would  remain.  No  thought  of  leaving  came 
to  him.  It  would  all  be  changed,  of  course;  men  and 
machinery  would  spoil  all  the  beauty  of  their  wilderness. 
But  as  yet  no  plan  for  his  own  future  had  occurred  to 
him.  That  he  himself  had  wealth  sufficient  to  secure 
him  from  all  toil  and  that  a  world  of  pleasure  was  within 
his  reach,  did  not  seem  to  touch  him  with  any  alluring 
sense.  He  was  going  to  remain  until  the  vein  of  the 
Twin  Springs  had  a  big  hole  made  in  it;  and  the  rich 
soil  of  the  old  river  he  had  staked  out  as  a  reserve  for 
himself  and  his  partners,  to  either  work  or  sell.  Through 
his  one-sided  conversations  with  Harris  he  learned  that 
he,  too,  wanted  to  remain  in  the  camp  where  their  gold 
had  been  found.  Doctors,  medicines,  luxuries,  could  be 
brought  to  him,  but  he  would  remain. 

Mrs.  Huzzard  had  at  once  been  offered  a  sum  that  in 
her  eyes  was  munificent,  for  the  express  purpose  of 
managing  the  establishment  of  the  partners — when  it 
was  built.  Until  then  she  was  to  draw  her  salary,  and 
act  as  either  nurse  or  cook  in  the  rude  dwellings  that 
for  the  present  had  to  satisfy  all  their  dreams  of  luxury. 

An  exodus  from  Sinna  Ferry  was  expected;  many 


MISS  SLOCUM  ON  DEPORTMENT 

changes  were  to  be  made;  and  Overton  and  the  doctor 
went  down  to  the  canoe  to  give  final  directions  to  their 
Indian  messenger. 

Lyster'was  there,  too,  with  a  most  exhausting  list  of 
articles  which  Mr.  Haydon  was  to  send  up  from  Helena. 

"Dan,  some  of  these  things  I  put  down  for  'Tana,  as 
I  happened  to  think  of  them,"  he  said,  and  unfolded  a 
little  roll  made  from  the  leaves  of  a  note-book  stuck  to- 
gether at  the  ends  with  molasses.  "You  look  it  over 
and  see  if  it's  all  right.  I  left  one  sheet  empty  for  any- 
thing you  might  want  to  add." 

Dan  took  it,  eying  dubiously  the  length  of  it  and  the 
great  array  of  articles  mentioned. 

"I  don't  think  I  had  better  add  anything  to  it  until 
heavier  boats  are  carrying  freight  on  the  Kootenai,"  he 
remarked,  and  then  commenced  reading  aloud  some  of 
the  items : 

Eiderdown  pillows. 

Rugs  and  hammocks. 

A  guitar. 

Hot  water  bottle. 

Some  good  whisky. 

Toilet  soap. 

Bret  Harte's  Poems. 

A  traveling  dress  for  a  girl.  (Here  followed  measure- 
ments and  directions  to  the  dressmaker.)  Then  the 
whole  was  scratched  out,  and  the  following  was  sub- 
stituted: Brown  flannel  or  serge — nine  yards. 

"I  had  to  get  Mrs.  Huzzard  to  tell  me  some  of  the 
things,"  said  Lyster,  who  looked  rather  annoyed  at  the 
quizzical  smiles  of  Dan  and  the  doctor. 

"I  should  imagine  you  would,"  observed  Overton.  "I 
would  have  needed  the  help  of  the  whole  camp  to  get 


220  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

together  that  amount  of  plunder.  A  good  shaving  set 
and  a  pair  of  cork  insoles,  No.  8,  are  they  for  'Tana, 
too?" 

But  Lyster  disdained  reply,  and  Overton,  after  read- 
ing, "All  the  late  magazines,"  and  "A  double  kettle  for 
cooking  oatmeal,"  folded  up  the  paper  and  gave  it  back. 

"As  I  have  read  only  a  very  small  section  of  the  list, 
I  do  not  imagine  you  have  omitted  anything  that  could 
possibly  be  towed  up  the  river,"  he  said.  "But  it  is  all 
right,  my  boy.  I  would  never  have  thought  of  half  that 
stuff,  but  I've  no  doubt  they  will  all  be  of  use,  and  'Tana 
will  thank  you/' 

"How  soon  do  you  expect  she  will  be  able  to  walk, 
or  be  moved  ?"  asked  Mr.  Haydon  of  the  doctor. 

"Oh,  in  two  or  three  weeks,  if  nothing  interferes  with 
her  promised  recovery.  She  is  a  pretty  sick  girl;  but 
I  think  her  good  constitution  will  help  her  on  her  feet 
by  that  time." 

"And  by  that  time  I  will  be  back  here,"  said  Haydon, 
addressing  Lyster. 

He  took  a  sealed  envelope  from  an  inner  pocket  and 
gave  it  to  the  young  fellow. 

"When  she  gets  well  enough  to  read  that,  give  it  to 
her,  Max,"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone.  "It's  something  that 
may  surprise  her  a  little,  so  I  trust  your  discretion  as 
to  when  she  is  to  see  it.  From  what  I  hear  of  her,  she 
must  be  a  rather  level-headed,  independent  little  girl. 
And  as  I  have  something  to  tell  her  worth  her  knowing, 
I  have  decided  to  leave  the  letter.  Now,  don't  look  so 
puzzled.  When  I  come  back  she  will  likely  tell  you  what 
it  means,  but  you  may  be  sure  it  is  no  bad  news  I  send 
her.  Will  you  attend  to  it?" 

"Certainly.     But  I  don't  understand--" 


MISS  SLOCUM  ON  DEPORTMENT       221 

"And  there  is  no  need  for  you  to  understand — just 
yet.  Take  good  care  of  her,  and  help  Overton  in  all 
possible  ways  to  look  after  our  interests  here.  There 
will  be  a  great  deal  to  see  to  until  Seldon  or  I  can  get 
back." 

"Oh,  Dan  is  a  host  in  himself,"  said  Lyster.  "He 
won't  want  me  in  his  way  when  it  comes  to  managing 
his  men.  But  I  can  help  Flap-Jacks  carry  water,  or 
help  old  Akkomi  smoke,  for  he  comes  here  each  day  for 
just  that  purpose — that  and  his  dinner — so  never  fear 
but  that  I  will  make  myself  useful." 

Miss  Slocum  from  the  cabin  doorway — the  door  was 
a  blanket — watched  the  canoe  skim  down  the  little 
stream,  and  sighed  dolefully  when  it  disappeared  en- 
tirely. 

"Now,  Lavina,"  remonstrated  Mrs.  Huzzard,  "I  do 
hope  that  you  ain't  counting  on  making  part  of  the  next 
load  that  leaves  here;  for  now  that  you  have  got  here, 
I'd  hate  the  worst  kind  to  lose  you.  Gold  mines  are 
fine  things  to  live  alongside  of,  I  dare  say;  but  I  crave 
some  human  beings  within  hail — yes,  indeed." 

"Exactly  my  own  feelings,  Cousin  Lorena,"  admitted 
Miss  Slocum,  "and  I  regret  the  departure  of  any  mem- 
ber of  our  circle — all  except  the  Indians.  I  really  do  not 
think  that  any  amount  of  living  among  them  would 
teach  me  to  feel  lonely  at  their  absence.  And  that  dread- 
ful Akkomi!" 

"Yes,  isn't  he  a  trial?  Not  that  he  ever  does  any 
harm;  but  he  just  keeps  a  body  in  mortal  dread,  for 
fear  he  might  take  a  notion  to." 

"Yet  Mr.  Overton  seems  to  think  him  entirely 
friendly," 

"Humph!  yes.    But  if  'Tana  should  pet  a  rattlesnake, 

15 


222  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

Mr.  Overton  would  trust  it.  That's  just  how  constant 
he  is  to  his  friends." 

"Well,  now,"  said  Miss  Lavina,  with  mild  surprise 
in  her  tone,  "I  really  have  seen  nothing  in  his  man- 
ner that  would  indicate  any  extreme  liking  for  the  girl, 
though  she  is  his  ward.  Now,  that  bright  young  gentle- 
man, Mr.  Lyster — " 

"Tut,  tut,  Lavina!  Max  Lyster  is  all  eyes  and  hands 
for  her  just  now.  He  will  fan  her  and  laugh  with  her; 
but  it  will  be  Dan  who  digs  for  her  and  takes  the  weight 
of  her  care  on  his  shoulders,  even  if  he  never  says  a  word 
about  it.  That  is  just  Dan  Overton's  way." 

"And  a  very  fine  way  it  is,  Lorena,"  said  Miss  Slocum, 
while  her  eyes  wandered  out  to  where  he  stood  talking 
to  Lyster.  "I've  met  many  men  of  fine  manners  in  my 
time,  but  I  never  was  more  impressed  at  first  sight  by 
any  person  than  by  him  when  he  conducted  me  personally 
to  you  on  my  arrival.  The  man  had  never  heard  my 
name  before,  yet  he  received  me  as  if  this  camp  had  been 
arranged  on  purpose  for  my  visit,  and  that  he  himself 
had  been  expecting  me.  If  that  did  not  contain  the  very 
essence  of  fine  manners,  I  never  saw  any,  Lorena  Jane." 

"I — I  s'pose  it  does,  Lavina,"  agreed  Mrs.  Huzzard; 
"though  I  never  heard  any  one  go  on  much  about  his 
manners  before.  And  as  for  me — well,"  and  she  looked 
a  bit  embarrassed,  "I  ain't  the  best  judge  myself.  I've 
had  such  a  terrible  hard  tussle  to  make  a  living  since 
my  man  died,  that  I  hain't  had  time  to  study  fine  man- 
ners. I'll  have  time  enough  before  long,  I  suppose,  for 
Dan  Overton  surely  has  offered  me  liberal  living  wages. 
But,  Lavina,  even  if  I  did  want  to  learn  now,  I  wouldn't 
know  where  to  commence." 

"Well,  Lorena,  since  you  mention  it,  there  is  lots  of 


MISS  SLOCUM  ON  DEPORTMENT       223 

room  for  improvement  in  your  general  manner.  YouVe 
been  with  careless  people,  I  suppose,  and  bad  habits  are 
gathered  that  way.  Now  I  never  was  much  of  a  genius 
—couldn't  trim  a  bonnet  like  you  to  save  my  life;  but 
I  did  have  a  most  particular  mother;  and  she  held  that 
good  manners  was  a  recommendation  in  any  land.  So, 
even  if  her  children  had  no  fortune  left  them,  they  were 
taught  to  show  they  had  careful  bringing  up.  One  of 
my  ideas  in  coming  out  here  was  that  I  might  teach 
deportment  in  some  Indian  school,  but  not  much  of  that 
notion  is  left  me.  Could  I  ever  teach  Flap-Jacks  to  quit 
scratching  her  head  in  the  presence  of  ladies  and  gentle- 
men? No." 

"I  don't  think,"  said  Mrs.  Huzzard,  in  a  meditative 
way,  "that  I  mind  the  scratching  so  much  as  I  do  the 
dratted  habit  she  has  of  carrying  the  dish-cloth  under 
her  arm  when  she  don't  happen  to  be  using  it.  That  just 
wears  on  my  nerves,  it  does.  But  I  tell  you  what  it  is, 
Lavina — if  you  are  kind  of  disappointed  on  account  o£ 
not  getting  Indian  scholars  that  suit  just  yet,  I'm  more 
than  half  willing  you  should  teach  me  the  deportment, 
if  you'd  be  satisfied  with  one  big  white  scholar  instead 
of  a  lot  of  little  red  ones." 

"Yes,  indeed,  and  glad  to  do  it,"  said  Miss  Slocum, 
frankly.  "Your  heart  is  all  right,  Lorena  Jane;  but  a 
warm  heart  will  not  make  people  forget  that  you  lean 
your  elbow  on  the  table  and  put  your  food  into  your 
mouth  with  your  knife.  Such  things  jar  on  other  people 
just  as  Flap-Jacks  and  the  dish-cloth  jar  on  you.  Don't 
you  understand  ?  But  your  desire  to  improve  shows  that 
you  are  a  very  remarkable  woman,  Lorena,  for  very  few 
people  are  willing  to  learn  new  habits  after  having  fol- 
lowed careless  ones  for  forty  years." 


224  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"Thirty-nine,"  corrected  Lorena  Jane,  showing  that, 
however  peculiar  and  remarkable  her  wisdom  might  be 
in  some  directions,  it  did  not  prevent  a  natural  womanly 
feeling  regarding  the  number  of  years  she  had  lived. 

"You  see,"  she  continued,  after  a  little,  as  Miss  Lavina 
kept  a  discreet  silence,  "this  here  gold  fever  is  catching; 
and  if  any  one  gets  started  on  the  right  track,  there  is 
no  telling  what  day  he  may  stumble  over  a  fortune.  One 
might  come  my  way — or  yours,  Lavina.  And,  just  as 
you  say,  fine  manners  is  a  heap  of  help  in  sassiety.  And 
thinking  of  it  that  way  makes  me  feel  I'd  like  to  be  pre- 
pared to  enjoy,  in  first-class  style,  any  amount  of  money 
I  might  get  a  chance  at  up  here.  For  I  tell  you  what 
it  is,  Lavina,  this  Western  land  is  a  woman's  country. 
Her  chances  in  most  things  are  always  as  good,  and 
mostly  better  than  a  man's." 

"Yes,  if  she  does  not  die  from  fright  at  the  creepy  looks 
of  the  friendly  Indians,"  said  Miss  Slocum,  with  a 
shivering  breath.  "I  have  not  slept  sound  for  a  single 
minute  since  I  saw  that  old  smoking  wretch  who  never 
seems  a  rod  from  this  cabin.  Now  down  there  at  Sinna 
Ferry  I  thought  it  might  be  kind  of  nice,  though  we 
stopped  only  a  little  while,  and  I  was  not  up  in  the  street. 
Any  real  genteel  people  there?" 

"Well — yes,  there  is,"  answered  Lorena  Jane,  after 
a  slight  hesitation  as  to  just  how  much  it  would  be  wise  to 
say  of  the  genteel  gentleman  who  resided  in  Sinna  Ferry, 
and  was  in  her  eyes  a  model  of  culture  and  disdainful 
superiority.  Indeed,  that  disdain  of  his  had  been  a  first 
cause  in  her  desire  to  reach  the  state  of  polish  he  him- 
self enjoyed — to  rise  above  the  vulgar  level  of  manners 
that  had  of  old  seemed  good  enough  to  her.  "Yes,  there 
is  some  high-toned  folks  there;  the  doctor's  wife  and 


MISS  SLOCUM  ON  DEPORTMENT       225 

family,  for  one;  and  then  there  is  a  very  genteel  man 
there — Captain  Leek.  He  is  an  ex-officer  in  the  late 
war,  you  know ;  a  real  military  gentleman,  with  a  wound 
in  his  leg.  Limps  some,  but  not  enough  to  make  him 
awkward.  He  keeps  the  postoffice.  But  if  this  Gov- 
ernment looked  after  its  heroes  as  it  ought  to,  he'd  be 
getting  a  good  pension — that's  just  what  he  would.  I'm 
too  sound  a  Union  woman  not  to  feel  riled  at  times 
when  I  see  the  defenders  of  the  Constitution  go  unre- 
warded." 

"Don't  say  'riled,'  Lorena,"  corrected  Miss  Slocum. 
"You  must  drop  that  and  'dratted'  and  Til  swan';  for 
I  don't  think  you  could  tell  what  any  of  them  mean. 
I  couldn't,  I'm  sure.  But  I  used  to  know  a  family  of 
Leeks  back  in  Ohio.  They  were  Democrats,  though, 
and  their  boys  joined  the  Confederate  Army,  though  I 
heard  they  wasn't  much  good  to  the  cause.  But  of 
course  it  is  not  likely  to  be  one  of  them." 

"I  should  think  not,"  agreed  Mrs.  Huzzard,  stoutly. 
"I  never  heard  him  talk  politics  much;  but  I  do  know 
that  he  wears  nothing  but  the  Union  blue  to  this  day, 
and  always  that  military  sort  of  hat  with  a  cord  around 
it — so — so  dignified  like." 

"No,  I  did  not  suppose  it  could  be  the  one  I  knew," 
said  her  cousin;  "the  military  uniform  decides  that." 


226  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

AWAKENING. 

"Flap-Jacks,"  said  'Tana,  softly,  so  as  to  reach  no 
ear  but  that  of  the  squaw,  who  came  in  from  Harris5 
cabin  to  find  the  parasol  of  Miss  Slocum,  who  was  about 
to  walk  in  the  sunshine.  To  the  red  creature  of  the 
forest  this  parasol  seemed  the  most  wonderfully  beauti- 
ful thing  of  all  the  strange  things  which  the  white 
squaws  made  use  of.  "Flap-Jacks,  are  they  gone?" 

Three  weeks  had  gone  by,  three  weeks  of  miraculous 
changes  in  the  beauty  of  their  wild  nook  along  the  trail 
of  the  old  river. 

"Twin  Springs,"  the  place  was  called  now — Twin 
Spring  Mines.  Already  men  were  at  work  on  the  new 
lode,  and  doing  placer  digging  for  the  free  gold  in  the 
soil.  Wooden  rails  were  laid  to  the  edge  of  the  stream, 
and  over  it  the  small,  rude  car  was  pushed  with  the  new 
ore  down  to  a  raft  on  which  a  test  load  had  been  drifted 
to  the  immense  crusher  at  the  works  on  Lake  Kootenai. 
And  the  test  had  resulted  so  favorably  that  the  new 
strike  at  Twin  Springs  was  considered  by  far  the  rich- 
est one  of  the  year. 

Through  all  the  turbulence  that  swept  up  the  little 
stream  to  their  camp,  two  of  the  discovering  party  were 
housed,  sick  and  silent,  in  the  little  double  cabin.  The 
doctor  could  see  no  reason  why  'Tana  was  so  slow  in 
her  recovery;  he  had  expected  so  much  more  of  her — 


AWAKENING  227 

that  she  would  be  carried  into  health  again  by  the  very 
force  of  her  ambition,  and  her  eager  delight  in  the  pros- 
pects which  her  newly  acquired  wealth  was  opening  up 
to  her. 

But  puzzling  to  relate,  she  showed  no  eagerness  at  all 
about  it.  Her  ambitions,  if  she  had  any,  were  asleep, 
and  she  scarcely  asked  a  question  concerning  all  the 
changes  of  life  and  people  around  her.  Listless  she  lay 
from  one  day  to  another,  accepting  the  attention  of  peo- 
ple indifferently.  Max  would  read  to  her  a  good  deal, 
and  several  times  she  asked  to  be  carried  into  the  cabin 
of  Harris,  where  she  would  sit  for  hours  talking  to  him, 
sometimes  in  a  low  voice  and  then  again  sitting  close 
beside  him  in  long  silences,  which,  strangely  enough, 
seemed  more  of  companionship  to  her  than  the  presence 
of  people  who  laughed  and  talked.  They  wearied  her 
at  times.  When  she  was  able  to  walk  out,  she  liked  to 
go  alone;  even  Max  she  had  sent  back  when  he  fol- 
lowed her. 

But  she  never  went  far.  Sometimes  she  would  sit 
for  an  hour  by  the  stream,  watching  the  water  slip  past 
the  pebbles  and  the  grasses>  and  on  to  its  turbulent  jour- 
ney toward  a  far-off  rest  in  the  Pacific.  And  again,  she 
would  watch  some  strange  miner  dig  and  wash  the  soil 
in  his  search  for  the  precious  "yellow."  But  her  walks 
were  ever  within  the  limits  of  the  busy  diggings;  all 
her  old  fondness  for  the  wild  places  seemed  sleeping — 
like  her  ambitions. 

"She  needs  change  now.  Get  her  away  from  here/' 
advised  the  doctor,  who  no  longer  felt  that  she  needed 
medicines,  but  who  could  not,  with  all  his  skill,  build 
her  up  again  into  the  daring,  saucy  Tana,  who  had 


228  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

won  the  game  of  cards  from  the  captain  that  night  at 
the  select  party  at  Sinna  Ferry. 

But  when  Overton,  after  much  hesitation,  broached 
the  subject  of  her  going  away,  she  did  look  at  him  with 
a  touch  of  the  old  defiance  in  her  face,  and  after  a  bit 
said: 

"I  guess  the  camp  will  have  to  be  big  enough  foi 
you  and  me,  too,  a  few  days  longer.  I  haven't  made  up 
my  mind  as  to  when  I  want  to  go." 

"But  the  summer  will  not  last  long,  now.  You  must 
commence  to  think  of  'where  you  want  to  go ;  for  when 
the  cold  weather  comes,  'Tana,  you  can't  remain  here." 

"I  can  if  I  want  to,"  she  answered. 

After  one  troubled,  helpless  look  at  her  pale  face, 
he  walked  out  of  the  cabin ;  and  Lyster,  who  had  wanted 
to  aslv  the  result  of  the  interview,  could  not  find  him 
all  that  evening.  He  had  gone  somewhere  alone,  up  on 
the  mountain. 

She  had  answered  him  with  a  great  deal  of  cool  in- 
difference; but  when  the  two  cousins  entered  her  room, 
she  was  on  the  bed  with  her  face  buried  in  the  pillows, 
weeping  in  an  uncontrollable  manner  that  filled  them 
with  dismay.  The  doctor  decided  that  while  Dan  was 
a  good  fellow  in  most  ways,  he  evidently  had  not  a  sooth- 
ing influence  on  'Tana,  possibly  not  realizing  the  changed 
mental  condition  laid  on  her  by  her  sickness.  The  doc- 
tor further  made  up  his  mind  that,  without  hurting  Dan's 
feelings,  he  must  find  some  other  mouthpiece  for  his 
ideas  concerning  her  or  reason  with  her  himself. 

But,  so  far,  she  would  only  say  she  was  not  ready  to 
go  yet.  Dan,  wishing  to  make  her  stay  comfortable  as 
possible,  went  quietly  to  all  the  settlements  within  reach 
for  luxuries  in  the  way  of  house-furnishing,  and  had 


AWAKENING  229 

Mrs.  Huzzard  use  them  in  'Tana's  cabin.  But  when  he 
had  done  all  this,  she  never  asked  a  question  as  to 
where  the  comforts  came  from — she,  who,  a  short  month 
before,  had  valued  each  kind  glance  received  from  him. 

Mrs.  Huzzard  was  sorely  afraid  that  it  was  pride,  the 
pride  of  newly  acquired  wealth,  that  changed  her  from 
the  gay,  saucy  girl  into  a  moody,  dreamy  being,  who 
would  lie  all  alone  for  hours  and  not  notice  any  of 
them  coming  and  going.  The  good  soul  had  many  a 
heartache  over  it  all,  never  guessing  that  it  was  an 
ache  and  a  shame  in  the  heart  of  the  girl  that  made  the 
new  life  that  was  given  her  seem  a  thing  of  little  value. 

Tana  had  watched  the  squaw  wistfully  at  times,  as 
if  expecting  her  to  say  something  to  her  when  the  others 
were  not  around,  but  she  never  did.  When  'Tana  heard 
the  ladies  ask  Lyster  to  go  with  them  to  a  certain  place 
where  beautiful  mosses  were  to  be  found,  she  waited  with 
impatience  until  their  voices  left  the  door. 

The  squaw  shook  her  head  when  asked  in  that  whisper- 
ing  way  of  their  departure ;  but  when  she  had  carried  out 
the  parasol  and  watched  the  party  disappear  beyond  the 
numerous  tents  now  dotting  the  spaces  where  the  grass 
grew  rank  only  a  month  before,  then  she  slipped  back 
and  stood  watchful  and  silent  inside  the  door. 

"Come  close,"  said  the  girl,  motioning  with  a  certain 
nervousness  to  her.  She  was  not  the  brave,  indifferent 
little  girl  she  had  been  of  old.  "Come  close — some  one 
might  listen,  somewhere.  I've  been  so  sick — I've  dreamed 
so  many  things  that  I  can't  tell  some  days  what  is  dream 
and  what  is  true.  I  lie  here  and  think  and  think,  but  it 
will  not  come  clear.  Listen !  I  think  sometimes  you 
and  I  hunted  for  tracks — a  white  man's  tracks — across 
there  where  the  high  ferns  are.  You  showed  them  to  me, 


230  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

and  then  we  came  back  when  the  moon  shone,  and  it 
was  light  like  day,  and  I  picked  white  flowers.  Some 
days  I  think  of  it — of  the  tracks,  long,  slim  tracks,  with 
the  boot  heel.  Then  my  head  hurts,  and  I  think  maybe 
we  never  found  the  tracks,  maybe  it  is  only  a  dream,  like 
— like  other  things  !" 

She  did  not  ask  if  it  were  so,  but  she  leaned  forward 
with  all  of  eager  question  in  her  eyes.  It  was  the  first 
time  she  had  shown  strong  interest  in  anything.  But, 
having  aroused  from  her  listlessness  to  speak  of  the 
ghosts  of  fancy  haunting  her,  she  seemed  quickened  to 
anxiety  by  the  picture  her  own  words  conjured  up. 

"Ah!  those  tracks  in  the  black  mud  and  that  face 
above  the  ledge !" 

"It  is  true,"  said  the  squaw,  "and  not  a  dream.  The 
track  of  the  white  man  was  there,  and  the  moon  was  in 
the  sky,  as  you  say." 

"Ah!"  and  the  evidently  unwelcome  truth  made  her 
clench  her  fingers  together  despairingly;  she  had  hoped 
so  that  it  was  a  dream.  The  truth  of  it  banished  her 
lethargy,  made  her  think  as  nothing  else  had.  "Ah!  it 
was  so,  then;  and  the  face — the  face  was  real,  was — " 

"I  saw  no  face,"  said  the  squaw. 

"But  I  did— yes,  I  did,"  she  muttered.  "I  saw  it  like 
the  face  of  a  white  devil !" 

Then  she  checked  herself  and  glanced  at  the  Indian 
woman,  whose  dark,  heavy  face  appeared  so  stupid. 
Still,  one  never  could  tell  by  the  looks  of  an  Indian  how 
much  or  how  little  he  knows  of  the  thing  you  want  to 
know;  and  after  a  moment's  scrutiny,  the  girl  asked: 

"Did  you  learn  more  of  the  tracks? — learn  who  the 
white  man  was  that  made  them?" 

The  woman  shook  her  head. 


AWAKENING  231 

"You  sick — much  sick,"  she  explained.  "All  time 
Dan  he  say:  'Stay  here  by  white  girl's  bed.  Never 
leave.'  So  I  not  get  out  again,  and  the  rain  come  wash 
all  track  away." 

"Does  Dan  know? — did  you  tell  him?" 

"No,  Dan  never  ask — never  talk  to  me,  only  say,  Take 
care  Tana/  that  all." 

The  girl  asked  no  more,  but  lay  there  on  her  couch, 
filled  with  dry  moss  and  covered  with  skins  of  the  moun- 
tain wolf.  Her  eyes  closed  as  though  she  were  asleep; 
but  the  squaw  knew  better,  and  after  a  little,  she  said 
doubtfully : 

"Maybe  Akkomi  know." 

"Akkomi !"  and  the  eyes  opened  wide  and  slant.  "That 
is  so.  I  should  have  remembered.  But  oh,  all  the 
thoughts  in  my  brain  have  been  so  muddled.  You  have 
heard  something,  then  ?  Tell  me." 

"Not  much — only  little,"  answered  the  squaw.  "That 
night — late  that  night,  a  white  stranger  reached  Akkomi's 
tent,  to  sleep.  No  one  else  of  the  tribe  got  to  see  him, 
so  the  word  is.  Kawaka  heard  on  the  river,  and  it  was 
that  night." 

"And  then?    Where  did  the  stranger  go?" 

The  squaw  shook  her  head. 

"Me  not  know.  Kawaka  not  hear.  But  I  thought 
of  the  track.  Now  many  white  men  make  tracks,  and  one 
no  matter." 

"Akkomi,"  and  the  thoughts  of  the  girl  went  back 
to  the  very  first  she  could  remember  of  her  recovery; 
and  always,  each  day,  the  face  of  Akkomi  had  been  near 
her.  He  had  not  talked,  but  would  look  at  her  a  little 
while  with  his  sharp,  bead-like  eyes,  and  then  betake 
himself  to  the  sunshine  outside  her  door,  where  he  would 


232  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

smoke  placidly  for  hours  and  watch  the  restless  Anglo- 
Saxon  in  his  struggle  to  make  the  earth  yield  up  its 
riches. 

Each  day  Akkomi  had  been  there,  and  she  had  not 
once  aroused  herself  to  question  why;  but  she  would. 

Rising,  she  passed  out  and  looked  right  and  left;  but 
no  blanketed  brave  met  her  gaze.  Only  Kawaka,  the 
husband  of  Flap- Jacks,  worked  about  the  canoes  by  the 
water.  Then  she  entered  Harris*  cabin,  where  the  sight 
of  his  helpless  form,  and  his  welcoming  smile,  made 
her  halt,  and  drop  down  on  the  rug  beside  him.  She 
had  forgotten  him  so  much  of  late,  and  she  touched  his 
hand  remorsefully. 

"I  feel  as  if  I  had  just  got  awake,  Joe,"  she  said,  and 
stretched  out  her  arms,  as  though  to  drive  away  the 
last  vestige  of  sleep.  "Do  you  know  how  that  feels? 
To  lie  for  days,  stupid  as  a  chilled  snake,  and  then,  all 
at  once,  to  feel  the  sun  creeping  around  where  you  are 
and  warming  you  until  you  begin  to  wonder  how  you 
could  have  slept  so  many  days  away.  Well,  just  now  I 
feel  almost  well  again.  I  did  not  think  I  would  get  well ; 
I  did  not  care.  All  the  days  I  lay  in  there  I  wished 
they  would  just  let  me  be,  and  throw  their  medicines 
in  the  creek.  I  think,  Joe,  that  there  are  times  when 
people  should  be  allowed  to  die,  when  they  grow  tired — 
tired  away  down  in  their  hearts ;  so  tired  that  they  don't 
want  to  take  up  the  old  tussle  of  living  again.  It  is  so 
much  easier  to  die  then  than  when  a  person  is  happy,  and 
— and  has  some  one  to  like  them,  and — " 

She  left  the  sentence  unfinished,  but  he  nodded  a  per^ 
feet  understanding  of  her  thoughts. 

"Yes,  you  have  felt  like  that,  too,  I  suppose,"  she 
continued,  after  a  little.  "But  now,  Joe,  they  tell  me  we 


AWAKENING  233 

are  rich — you  and  Dan  and  I — so  rich  we  ought  to  be 
happy,  all  of  us.  Are  we?" 

He  only  smiled  at  her,  and  glanced  at  the  cozy  fur- 
nishing of  his  rude  cabin.  Like  'Tana's,  it  had  been 
given  a  complete  going  over  by  Overton,  and  rugs  and 
robes  did  much  to  soften  its  crude  wood-work.  It  had 
all  the  luxury  obtainable  in  that  district,  though  even  yet 
the  doors  were  but  heavy  skins. 

She  noticed  the  look  but  shook  her  head. 

"Thick  rugs  and  soft  pillows  don't  make  troubles 
lighter,"  she  said,  with  conviction ;  and  then :  "Maybe 
Dan  is  happy.  He — he  must  be.  All  he  thinks  of  now 
is  the  gold  ore." 

She  spoke  so  wistfully,  and  her  own  eyes  looked  so 
far,  far  from  happy,  that  the  face  of  the  man  was  filled 
with  longing  to  comfort  her — the  little  girl  who  had 
tramped  so  long  on  a  lone  trail — how  lonely  none  knew 
so  well  as  he.  His  fingers  closed  and  unclosed,  as  i* 
with  the  desire  to  clasp  her  hand, — to  make  some  visible 
show  of  friendship. 

She  saw  the  slight  movement,  and  looked  up  at  him 
with  a  new  interest. 

"Oh,  I  forgot,  Joe !  I  never  once  have  asked  how  you 
have  got  along  while  I  have  been  so  sick.  Can  you  use 
your  hands  any  at  all?  You  could  once,  a  little  bit  that 
day — the  day  we  found  the  gold." 

But  he  shook  his  head,  and  just  then  a  step  was  heard 
outside,  and  Lyster  looked  in. 

A  shade  of  surprise  touched  his  face,  as  he  saw  Tana 
there,  with  so  bright  an  expression  in  her  eyes. 

"What  has  Harris  been  telling  you  that  has  aroused 
you  to  interest,  Tana?"  he  asked,  jestingly.  "He  has 


234:  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

more  influence  than  I,  for  I  have  scarcely  been  able  to 
get  you  to  talk  at  all." 

"You  don't  need  me;  you  have  Miss  Slocum,"  she 
answered.  "Have  you  dropped  her  in  the  creek  and 
run  back  to  camp?  And  have  you  seen  Akkomi  lately? 
I  want  him." 

"Of  course  you  do.  The  moment  I  make  my  appear- 
ance, you  want  to  get  rid  of  me  by  sending  me  for 
some  other  man.  No,  I  am  happy  to  say  I  have  not  seen 
that  royal  loafer  for  the  past  hour.  And  I  am  more 
happy  still  to  find  that  you  really  want  some  one — any 
one — once  more.  Do  you  realize,  my  dear  girl,  how  very 
many  days  it  is  since  you  have  condescended  to  want 
anything  on  this  earth  of  ours?  Won't  you  accept  me 
as  a  substitute  for  Akkomi?" 

"I  don't  want  you." 

But  her  eyes  smiled  on  him  kindly,  and  he  did  not 
believe  her. 

"Perhaps  not;  but  won't  you  pretend  you  do  for  a 
little  while,  long  enough  to  come  with  me  for  a  little 
walk — or  else  to  talk  to  me  in  your  cabin?" 

"To  talk  to  you?  I  don't  think  I  can  talk  much  to 
any  one  yet.  I  just  told  Joe  I  feel  as  if  I  was  only  waking 
up." 

"So  I  see;  that  is  the  reason  I  am  asking  an  audi- 
ence. I  will  do  the  talking,  and  it  need  not  be  a  very 
long  talk,  if  you  are  too  tired." 

"I  believe  I  will  go,"  she  said,  at  last.  "I  was  think- 
ing it  would  be  nice  to  float  in  a  canoe  again — just  to 
float  lazy  on  the  current.  Can't  we  do  that?" 

"Nothing  easier,"  he  answered,  entirely  delighted  that 
she  was  again  more  like  the  'Tana  of  two  months  before. 
She  seemed  to  him  a  little  paler  and  a  little  taller,  but 


AWAKENING 

as  they  walked  together  to  the  canoe,  he  felt  that  they 
would  again  come  to  the  old  chummy  days  of  Sinna 
Ferry,  when  they  quarreled  and  made  up  as  regularly  as 
the  sun  rose  and  set. 

"Well,  why  don't  you  talk?"  she  asked,  as  their  little 
craft  drifted  away  from  the  tents  and  the  man  who 
washed  the  soil  by  the  spring  run.  "What  did  you  do 
with  the  women  folks?" 

"Gave  them  to  Overton.  They  concluded  not  to  risk 
their  precious  selves  with  me,  when  they  discovered  that 
he,  for  a  wonder,  was  disengaged.  Really  and  truly,  that 
angular  schoolmistress  will  make  herself  Mrs.  Overton 
if  he  is  not  careful.  She  flatters  him  enough  to  spoil 
an  average  man;  looks  at  him  with  so  much  respectful 
awe,  you  know,  though  she  never  does  say  much  to 
him." 

"Saves  her  breath  to  drill  Mrs.  Huzzard  with,"  ob- 
served the  girl,  dryly.  "That  poor,  dear  woman  has  a 
bee  in  her  muddled  old  head,  and  the  bee  is  Captain 
Leek  and  his  fine  manners.  I  can  see  it,  plain  as  day. 
Bless  her  heart!  I  hear  her  go  over  and  over  words 
that  she  always  used  to  say  wrong,  and  she  does 
eat  nicer  than  she  used  to.  Humph!  I  wonder  if  Dan 
Overton  will  take  as  kindly  to  being  taught,  when  the 
school-teacher  begins  with  him." 

There  was  a  mirthless,  unlovely  smile  about  her  lips, 
%nd  Lyster  reached  over  and  clasped  her  hand  coaxingly. 
'  'Tana,  what  has  changed  you  so  ?"  he  asked.  "Is  it 
your  sickness — is  it  the  gold — or  what,  that  makes  you 
turn  from  your  old  friends?  Dan  never  says  a  word, 
but  I  notice  it.  You  never  talk  to  him,  and  he  has 
almost  quit  going  to  your  cabin  at  all,  though  he  would 


236  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

do  anything  for  you,  I  know.  My  dear,  you  will  find 
few  friends  like  him  in  the  world." 

"Oh,  don't — don't  bother  me  about  him,"  she  answered, 
irritably.  "He  is  all  right,  of  course.  But  I—" 

Then  she  stopped,  and  with  a  determined  air  turned 
the  subject. 

"You  said  you  had  something  to  talk  to  me  about. 
What  was  it?" 

"You  don't  know  how  glad  I  am  to  hear  you  speak 
as  you  used  to,"  he  said,  looking  at  her  kindly.  "I 
would  be  rejoiced  even  to  get  a  scolding  from  you  these 
days.  But  that  was  not  exactly  what  I  brought  you 
out  to  tell  you,  either,"  and  he  drew  from  his  pocket 
the  letter  he  had  carried  for  three  weeks,  waiting  until 
she  appeared  strong  enough  to  accept  surprises.  "I 
suppose,  of  course,  you  have  heard  us  talk  a  good  deal 
about  the  Eastern  capitalist  who  was  here  when  you 
were  so  sick,  and  who,  unhesitatingly,  made  purchase 
of  the  Twin  Spring  Mines,  as  it  is  called  now." 

"You  mean  the  very  fine  Mr.  Haydon,  who  had  curly 
hair  and  looked  like  me?"  she  asked,  ironically.  "Yes, 
I've  heard  the  women  folks  talking  about  him  a  good 
deal,  when  they  thought  me  asleep.  Old  Akkomi  scared 
him  a  little,  too,  didn't  he?" 

"So,  you  have  heard?"  he  asked,  in  surprise.  "Well, 
yes,  he  does  look  a  little  like  you;  it's  the  hair,  I  think. 
But  I  don't  see  why  you  utter  his  name  with  so  much 
contempt,  'Tana." 

"Maybe  not;  but  I've  heard  the  name  of  Haydon  be- 
fore to-day,  and  I  have  a  grudge  against  it." 

"But  not  this  Haydon." 

"I  don't  know  which  Haydon.     I  never  saw  any  of 


AWAKENING  237 

them — don't  know  as  I  want  to.  I  guess  this  one  is 
almost  too  fine  for  Kootenai  country  people,  anyway." 

"But  that  is  where  you  are  wrong,  entirely  wrong, 
'Tana,"  he  hastened  to  explain.  "He  was  very  much 
interested  in  you — very  much,  indeed;  asked  lots  of 
questions  about  you,  and — and  here  is  what  I  wanted 
to  speak  of.  When  he  went  away,  he  gave  me  this 
letter  for  you.  I  imagine  he  wants  to  help  make  ar- 
rangements for  you  when  you  go  East,  have  you  know 
nice  people  and  all  that.  You  see,  'Tana,  his  daughter 
is  about  your  age,  and  looks  just  a  little  as  you  do  some- 
times ;  and  I  think  he  wants  to  do  something  for  you.  It's 
an  odd  thing  for  him  to  take  so  strong  an  interest  in  any 
stranger;  but  they  are  the  very  best  people  you  could 
possibly  know  if  you  go  to  Philadelphia." 

"Maybe  if  you  would  let  me  see  the  letter  myself,  I 
could  tell  better  whether  I  wanted  to  know  them  or 
not,"  she  said,  and  Lyster  handed  it  to  her  without 
another  word. 

It  was  a  rather  long  letter,  two  closely- written  sheets, 
and  he  could  not  understand  the  little  contemptuous 
smile  with  which  she  opened  it.  Haydon,  the  great 
financier,  had  seemed  to  him  a  very  wonderful  personage 
when  he  was  'Tana's  age. 

The  girl  was  not  so  indifferent  as  she  tried  to  appear. 
Her  fingers  trembled  a  little,  though  her  mouth  grew 
set  and  angry  as  she  read  the  carefully  kind  words 
of  Mr.  Haydon. 

"It  is  rather  late  in  the  day  for  them  to  come  with 
offers  to  help  me,"  she  said,  bitterly.  "I  can  help  myself 
now ;  but  if  they  had  looked  for  me  a  year  ago — two  or 
three  years  ago — " 

"Looked  for  you!"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  sort  of  im- 

16 


238  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

patient  wonder.  "Why,  my  dear  girl,  who  would  even 
think  of  hunting  for  little  white  girls  in  these  forests? 
Don't  be  foolishly  resentful  now  that  people  want  to  be 
nice  to  you.  You  could  not  expect  attention  from  people 
before  they  were  aware  of  your  existence." 

"But  they  did  know  of  my  existence!"  she  answered, 
curtly.  "Oh!  you  needn't  stare  at  me  like  that,  Mr. 
Max  Lyster!  I  know  what  I'm  talking  about.  I  have 
the  very  shaky  honor  of  being  a  relation  of  your  fine 
gentleman  from  the  East.  I  thought  it  when  I  heard 
the  name,  but  did  not  suppose  he  would  know  it.  And 
I'm  not  too  proud  of  it,  either,  as  you  seem  to  think  I 
ought  to  be." 

"But  they  are  one  of  our  best  families — " 

"Then  your  worst  must  be  pretty  bad,"  she  interrupted. 
"I  know  just  about  what  they  are." 

"But  'Tana — how  does  it  come — " 

"I  won't  answer  any  questions  about  it,  Max,  so  don't 
ask,"  and  she  folded  up  the  letter  and  tore  it  into  very 
little  pieces,  which  she  let  fall  into  the  water.  "I  am 
not  going  to  claim  the  relationship  or  their  hospitality, 
and  I  would  just  as  soon  you  forgot  that  I  acknowledged 
it.  I  didn't  mean  to  tell,  but  that  letter  vexed  me." 

"Look  here,  'Tana,"  and  Lyster  caught  her  hand 
again.  "I  can't  let  you  act  like  this.  They  can  be  of 
much  more  help  to  you  socially  than  all  your  money.  If 
the  family  are  related  to  you,  and  offer  you  attention, 
you  can't  afford  to  ignore  it.  You  do  not  realize  now  how 
much  their  attention  will  mean;  but  when  you  are  older, 
you  will  regret  losing  it.  Let  me  advise  you — let  me — " 

"Oh,  hush!"  she  said,  closing  her  eyes,  wearily.  *rl 
am  tired — tired!  What  difference  does  it  make  to  you 
— why  need  you  care?" 


AWAKENING  239 

"May  I  tell  you?"  and  he  looked  at  her  so  strangely, 
so  gravely,  that  her  eyes  opened  in  expectation  of — she 
knew  not  what. 

"I  did  not  mean  to  let  you  know  so  soon,  Tana," 
and  his  clasp  of  her  hand  grew  closer ;  "but,  it  is  true— 
I  love  you.  Everything  that  concerns  you  makes  a  dif- 
ference to  me.  Now  do  you  understand?" 

"You !— Max— " 

"Don't  draw  your  hand  away.  Surely  you  guessed 
— a  little?  I  did  not  know  myself  how  much  I  cared 
till  you  came  so  near  dying.  Then  I  knew  I  could  not 
bear  to  let  you  go.  And — and  you  care  a  little  too,  don't 
you !  Speak  to  me !" 

"Let  us  go  home,"  she  answered  in  a  low  voice,  and 
tried  to  draw  her  fingers  away.  She  liked  him — yes; 
but— 

"Tana,  won't  you  speak  ?  Oh,  my  dear,  dear  one,  when 
you  were  so  ill,  so  very  ill,  you  knew  no  one  else,  but 
you  turned  to  me.  You  went  asleep  with  your  cheek 
against  my  hand,  and  more  than  once,  'Tana,  with  your 
hand  clasping  mine.  Surely  that  was  enough  to  make 
me  hope — for  you  did  like  me  a  little,  then." 

"Yes,  I- — liked  you,"  but  she  turned  her  head  away, 
that  he  could  not  see  her  flushed  face.  "You  were  good 
to  me,  but  I  did  not  know — I  could  not  guess — "  and  she 
broke  down  as  though  about  to  cry,  and  his  own  eyes 
were  full  of  tenderness.  She  appealed  to  him  now  as  she 
had  never  done  in  her  days  of  brightness  and  laughter. 

"Listen  to  me,"  he  said,  pleadingly.  "I  won't  worry 
you.  I  know  you  are  too  weak  and  ill  to  decide  yet  about 
your  future.  I  don't  ask  you  to  answer  me  now.  Wait. 
Go  to  school,  as  I  know  you  intend  to  do ;  but  don't  for- 
get me.  After  the  school  is  over  you  can  decide.  I  will 


240  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

wait  with  all  patience.  I  would  not  have  told  you  now, 
but  I  wanted  you  to  know  I  was  interested  in  the  answer 
you  would  give  Haydon.  I  wanted  you  to  know  that  I 
would  not  for  the  world  advise  you,  but  for  your  best 
interests.  Won't  you  believe — " 

"I  believe  you;  but  I  don't  know  what  to  say  to  you. 
You  are  different  from  me — your  people  are  different. 
And  of  my  people  you  know  nothing,  nothing  at  all, 
and—" 

"And  it  makes  no  difference,"  he  interrupted.  "I  know 
you  have  had  a  lot  of  trouble  for  a  little  girl,  or  your 
family  have  had  trouble  you  are  sensitive  about.  I  don't 
know  what  it  is,  but  it  makes  no  difference — not  a  bit. 
I  will  never  question  about  it,  unless  you  prefer  to  tell  of 
your  own  accord.  Oh,  my  dear!  if  some  day  you  could 
be  my  wife,  I  would  help  you  forget  all  your  childish 
troubles  and  your  unpleasant  life." 

"Let  us  go  home/'  she  said,  "you  are  good  to  me,  but 
I  am  so  tired." 

He  obediently  turned  the  canoe,  and  at  that  moment 
voices  came  to  them  from  toward  the  river — ringing 
voices  of  men. 

"It  is  possibly  Mr.  Haydon  and  others,"  he  exclaimed, 
after  listening  a  moment.  "We  have  been  expecting 
them  for  days.  That  was  why  I  could  no  longer  put  off 
giving  you  the  letter." 

"I  know,"  she  said,  and  her  face  flushed  and  paled  a 
little,  as  the  voices  came  closer.  He  could  see  she  nerv- 
ously dreaded  the  meeting. 

"Shall  I  get  the  canoe  back  to  camp  before  they  come  ?" 
he  asked  kindly;  but  she  shook  her  head. 

"You  can't,  for  they  move  fast,"  she  answered,  as  she 


AWAKENING  24.1 

listened.  "They  would  see  us;  and,  if  he  is  with  them, 
he — would  think  I  was  afraid." 

He  let  the  canoe  drift  again,  and  watched  her  moody 
face,  which  seemed  to  grow  more  cold  with  each  moment 
that  the  strangers  came  closer.  He  was  filled  with  sur- 
prise at  all  she  had  said  of  Haydon  and  of  the  letter. 
Who  would  have  dreamed  that  she — the  little  Indian- 
dressed  guest  of  Akkomi's  camp — would  be  connected 
with  the  most  exclusive  family  he  knew  in  the  East? 
The  Haydon  family  was  one  he  had  been  especially  in- 
terested in  only  a  year  ago,  because  of  Mr.  Haydon's 
very  charming  daughter.  Miss  Haydon,  however,  had 
a  clever  and  ambitious  mamma,  who  persisted  in  keeping 
him  at  a  safe  distance. 

Max  Lyster,  with  his  handsome  face  and  unsettled 
prospects,  was  not  the  brilliant  match  her  hopes  aspired 
to.  Pretty  Margaret  Haydon  had,  in  all  obedience,  re- 
fused him  dances  and  affected  not  to  see  his  efforts  to  be 
near  her.  But  he  knew  she  did  see;  and  one  little  bit  of 
comfort  he  had  taken  West  with  him  was  the  fancy 
that  her  refusals  were  never  voluntary  affairs,  and  that 
she  had  looked  at  him  as  he  had  never  known  her  to 
look  at  another  man. 

Well,  that  was  a  year  ago,  and  he  had  just  asked  an- 
other girl  to  marry  him — a  girl  who  did  not  look  at  him 
at  all,  but  whose  eyes  were  on  the  swift-flowing  current 
— troubled  eyes,  that  made  him  long  to  take  care  of  her. 

'Won't  you  speak  to  me  at  all?"  he  asked.  "I  wih 
do  anything  to  help  you,  Tana — anything  at  all." 

She  nodded  her  head  slowly. 

"Yes — now,"  she  answered.  "So  would  Mr.  Haydon, 
Max." 


242  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"  'Tana !  do  you  mean — "  His  face  flushed  hotly,  and 
he  looked  at  her  for  the  first  time  with  anger  in  his  face. 

She  put  out  her  hand  in  a  tired,  pleading  way. 

"I  only  mean  that  now,  when  I  have  been  lucky  enough 
to  help  myself,  it  seems  as  if  every  one  thinks  I  need 
looking  after  so  much  more  than  they  used  to.  Maybe 
because  I  am  not  strong  yet — maybe  so;  I  don't  know." 
Then  she  smiled  and  looked  at  him  curiously. 

"But  I  made  a  mistake  when  I  said  'every  one/  didn't 
I?  For  Dan  never  comes  near  me  any  more." 

Then  the  strange  canoes  came  in  sight  and  very  close 
to  them,  as  they  turned  a  bend  in  the  creek.  There  were 
three  large  boats — one  carrying  freight,  one  filled  with 
new  men  for  the  works,  and  in  the  other — the  foremost 
one — was  Mr.  Haydon,  and  a  tall,  thin,  middle-aged 
stranger. 

"Uncle  Seldon !"  exclaimed  Lyster,  with  animation, 
and  held  the  canoe  still  in  the  water,  that  the  other  might 
come  close,  and  in  a  whisper  he  said: 

"The  one  to  the  right  is  Mr.  Haydon." 

He  glanced  at  her  and  saw  she  was  making  a  painful 
effort  at  self-control. 

"Don't  worry,"  he  whispered.  "We  will  just  speak, 
and  drift  on  past  them." 

But  when  they  called  greeting  to  each  other,  and  the 
Indian  boatman  was  told  to  send  their  craft  close  to  the 
little  camp  canoe,  she  raised  her  head  and  looked  very 
levelly  across  the  stranger,  who  had  hair  so  like  her  own, 
and  spoke  to  the  Indian  who  paddled  their  boat  as  though 
he  were  the  only  one  there  to  notice. 

"Plucky !"  decided  Mr.  Haydon,  "and  stubborn ;"  but 
he  kept  those  thoughts  to  himself,  and  said  aloud:  "My 
dear  young  lady,  I  am  indeed  pleased  to  see  you  so  far 


AWAKENING  243 

recovered  since  my  last  visit.  I  presume  you  know  who 
I  am,"  and  he  looked  at  her  in  a  smiling,  confidential 
way. 

"Yes,  I  know  who  you  are.  Your  name  is  Haydon, 
and — there  is  a  piece  of  your  letter." 

She  picked  up  a  fragment  of  paper  that  had  fallen 
at  her  feet,  and  flung  it  out  from  her  on  the  water.  Mr. 
Haydon  affected  not  to  see  the  pettish  act,  but  turned 
to  his  companion. 

"Will  you  allow  me,  Miss  Rivers,  to  introduce  another 
member  of  our  firm?  This  is  Mr.  Seldon.  Seldon,  this 
is  the  young  girl  I  told  you  of." 

"I  knew  it  before  you  spoke,"  said  the  other  man, 
who  looked  at  her  with  a  great  deal  of  interest,  and  a 
great  deal  of  kindness.  "My  child,  I  was  your  mother's 
friend  long  ago.  Won't  you  let  me  be  yours  ?" 

She  reached  out  her  hand  to  him,  and  the  quick  tears 
came  to  her  eyes.  She  trusted  without  question  the 
earnest  gray  eyes  of  the  speaker,  and  turned  from  her 
own  uncle  to  the  uncle  of  Max. 


244  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE    MAN   IN   AKKOMl's    CLOAK. 

"My  dear  fellow,  there  is,  of  course,  no  way  of  thank- 
ing you  sufficiently  for  your  care  of  her ;  but  I  can  only 
say  I  am  mighty  glad  to  know  a  man  like  you."  , 

It  was  Mr.  Seldon  who  said  so,  and  Dan  Overton 
looked  embarrassed  and  deprecating  under  the  praise 
he  had  to  accept. 

"It  is  all  right  for  you  to  make  a  fuss  over  it,  Seldon," 
he  returned ;  "but  you  know,  as  well  as  you  know  dinner 
time,  that  you  would  have  done  no  less  if  you  had  found 
a  young  girl  anywhere  without  a  home — and  especially 
if  you  found  her  in  an  Indian  camp." 

"Did  she  give  you  any  information  as  to  how  she  came 
to  be  there  ?" 

Overton  looked  at  him  good-naturedly,  but  shook  his 
head. 

"I  can't  give  you  any  information  about  that,"  he 
answered.  "If  you  want  to  know  anything  of  her  pre- 
vious to  meeting  her  here,  she  will  have  to  tell  you." 
'  "But  she  won't.  I  can't  understand  it;  for  I  can  see 
no  need  of  mystery.  I  knew  her  mother  when  she  was 
a  girl  like  'Tana,  and—" 

"You  did?" 

"Yes,  I  did.  So  now,  perhaps,  you  will  understand 
why  I  take  such  an  interest  in  her — why  Mr.  Haydon 
takes  an  interest  in  her.  Simply  because  she  is  his  niece." 


THE  MAN  IN  AKKOMFS  CLOAK        245 

"Oh,  she  is — is  she?  And  he  came  here,  found  her 
dying,  or  next  door  to  it,  and  never  claimed  her." 

"No;  that  is  a  little  way  of  his,"  acknowledged  his 
partner.  "If  she  had  really  died,  he  never  would  have 
said  a  word  about  it,  for  it  would  have  caused  him 
a  lot  of  troublesome  explanation  at  home.  But  I  guess 
he  knew  I  would  be  likely  to  come  across  her.  She  is 
the  very  image  of  what  her  mother  was.  He  told  me  the 
whole  story  of  how  he  found  her  here,  and  all.  And 
now  he  wants  to  do  the  proper  thing  and  take  her  home 
with  him." 

"The  devil  he  does !"  growled  Overton.  "Well,  why  do 
you  come  to  me  about  it  ?" 

"Your  influence  with  her  was  one  thing,"  answered 
Mr.  Seldon,  with  a  dubious  smile  at  the  dark  face  be- 
fore him.  "This  prottgte  of  yours  has  a  will  of  her 
own,  it  seems,  and  refuses  utterly  to  acknowledge  her 
aristocratic  relations,  refuses  to  be  a  part  of  her  uncle's 
household;  and  we  want  your  influence  toward  chang- 
ing her  mind." 

"Well,  you'll  never  get  it,"  and  the  tone  was  decided 
as  the  words.  "If  she  says  she  is  no  relation  to  anybody, 
I'll  back  her  up  in  it,  and  not  ask  her  her  reasons,  either. 
If  she  doesn't  want  to  go  with  Mr.  Haydon,  she  is 
the  only  one  I  will  allow  to  decide,  unless  he  brings  a 
legal  order  from  some  court,  and  I  might  try  to  hinder 
him  even  then.  She  willingly  came  under  my  guardian- 
ship, and  when  she  leaves  it,  it  must  be  willingly." 

"Oh,  of  course  there  will  be  no  coercion  about  the 
matter,"  explained  Mr.  Seldon,  hastily.  "But  don't  you, 
yourself,  think  it  would  be  a  decided  advantage  for  her 
to  live  for  a  while  with  her  own  relatives  ?" 


246  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"I  am  in  no  position  to  judge.  I  don't  know  her  rela- 
tives. I  don't  know  why  it  is  that  she  has  not  been  taken 
care  of  by  them  long  ago ;  and  I  am  not  asking  any  ques- 
tions. She  knows,  and  that  is  enough;  and  I  am  sure 
her  reasons  for  not  going  would  satisfy  me." 

"Well,  you  are  a  fine  specimen  to  come  to  for  in- 
fluence," observed  the  other.  "She  has  a  grudge  against 
Haydon,  that  is  the  obstacle — a  grudge,  because  he  quar- 
reled with  her  mother  long  ago.  I  thought  that  as  you 
have  done  so  much  for  her,  your  word  might  have  weight 
in  showing  her  the  folly  of  it." 

"My  word  would  have  no  more  weight  than  yours," 
he  answered,  curtly.  "All  I  have  done  for  her  amounts 
to  nothing;  and  I've  an  idea  that  if  she  wanted  me  to 
know  her  fajnily  affairs,  she  would  tell  me." 

"Which,  interpreted,  means  that  I  had  better  be  at 
other  business  than  gossiping,"  said  Mr.  Seldon,  with 
much  good  humor.  "Well,  you  are  a  fine  pair,  and  some- 
thing alike,  too — you  goldfinders !  She  snubbed  Max  for 
trying  to  persuade  her,  and  you  snub  me.  As  a  last  re- 
sort, I  think  I  shall  try  to  get  that  old  Indian  into  our 
lobbying  here.  He  is  her  next  great  friend,  I  hear." 

"I  haven't  seen  him  in  camp  to-day,  for  a  wonder; 
but  he  is  sure  to  be  around  before  night." 

"But,  you  see,  we  are  to  go  on  up  to  the  new  works 
on  the  lake  to-day,  and  be  back  day  after  to-morrow.  I 
wish  you,  too,  could  go  up  to-morrow,  for  I  would  like 
your  judgment  about  some  changes  we  expect  to  make. 
Could  you  leave  here  for  twenty-four  hours?" 

"I'll  try,"  promised  Overton.  "But  the  new  men  from 
the  Ferry  will  be  up  to-day  or  to-morrow,  so  I  may  not 
reach  there  until  you  are  about  ready  to  start  back." 


THE  MAN  IN  AKKOMFS  CLOAK        247 

"Come  anyway,  if  you  can,  I  don't  seem  to  get  much 
chance  to  talk  to  you  here  in  camp — maybe  I  could  on  the 
river.  You  may  be  in  a  more  reasonable  mood  about 
'Tana  by  that  time,  and  try  to  influence  her  to  partake 
of  civilization." 

"  'Civilization !'  Oh,  yes,  of  course,  you  imagine  it  all 
lies  east  of  the  Appalachian  range,"  remarked  Over- 
ton,  slightingly.  "I  expect  that  from  a  man  of  Haydon's 
stamp,  but  not  from  you." 

Seldon  only  laughed. 

"One  would  think  you  had  been  born  and  bred  out 
here  in  the  West,"  he  remarked,  "while  you  are  really 
only  an  importation.  But  what  is  that  racket  about?" 

For  screeches  were  sounding  from  the  cabin — cries, 
feminine  and  frightened. 

Overton  and  Seldon  started  for  it,  as  did  several  of 
the  workmen,  but  their  haste  slackened  as  they  saw  'Tana 
leaning  against  a  doorway  and  laughing,  while  the  squaw 
stood  near  her,  chuckling  a  little  as  a  substitute  for  mer- 
riment. 

But  there  were  two  others  within  the  cabin  who  were 
by  no  means  merry — the  two  cousins,  who  were  standing 
huddled  together  on  the  couch,  uttering  spasmodic 
screeches  at  every  movement  made  by  a  little  gray  snake 
on  the  floor. 

It  had  crept  in  at  a  crevice,  and  did  not  know  how  to 
make  its  escape  from  the  noisy  shelter  it  had  found.  Its 
fright  was  equal  to  that  of  the  women,  for  it  appeared 
decidedly  restless,  and  each  uneasy  movement  of  it  was 
a  signal  for  fresh  screams. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Overton  !  I  beg  of  you,  kill  the  horrible  rep- 
tile !"  moaned  Miss  Slocum,  who  at  that  moment  was  as 
indifferent  to  the  proprieties  as  Mrs.  Huzzard,  and  was 


248  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

displaying  considerable  white  hosiery  and  black  gaiter 
tops. 

"Oh,  lawsy!  It  is  coming  this  way  again.  Ooh — 
ooh — h !"  and  Mrs.  Huzzard  did  a  little  dance  from  one 
foot  to  the  other,  in  a  very  ecstasy  of  fear.  "Oh,  Lavina, 
I'll  never  forgive  myself  for  advising  you  to  come  out 
to  this  Idaho  country!  Oh,  Lord!  won't  somebody 
kill  it?" 

"Why,  there  is  no  need  to  fear  that  little  thing,"  said 
Overton.  "Really,  it  is  not  a  snake  to  bite — no  more 
harm  in  it  than  in  a  mouse." 

"A  mouse!"  they  both  shrieked.  "Oh,  please  take  it 
away." 

Just  then  Akkomi  came  in  through  the  other  cabin, 
and,  hearing  the  shrieks,  simply  stooped  and  picked  up 
the  little  stranger  in  his  hand,  holding  it  that  they  might 
see  how  harmless  it  was. 

But,  instead  of  pacifying  them,  as  he  had  kindly  in- 
tended, they  only  cowered  against  the  wall,  too  horrified 
even  to  scream,  while  they  gazed  at  the  old  Indian,  as 
at  something  just  from  the  infernal  regions. 

"Lord,  have  mercy  on  our  souls,"  muttered  Lavina, 
m  a  sepulchral  tone,  and  with  pallid,  almost  moveless, 
lips. 

"Forever  and  ever,  amen,"  added  Lorena  Jane,  clutch- 
ing her  drapery  a  little  closer,  and  a  little  higher. 

And  not  until  Overton  persuaded  Akkomi  to  throw 
the  frightened  little  thing  away  did  they  consent  to  move 
from  their  pedestal.  Even  then  it  was  with  fear  and 
trembling,  and  many  an  awful  glance  toward  the  placid 
old  Indian,  who  smoked  his  pipe  and  never  glanced 
toward  them. 


THE  MAN  IN  AKKOMI'S  CLOAK         249 

"Never  again  will  I  sleep  in  that  room — not  if  I  die 
for  it !"  announced  Mrs.  Huzzard,  and  Miss  Slocum  was 
of  the  same  mind. 

"But  the  cabin  is  as  safe  as  a  tent,"  said  'Tana,  per- 
suasively, "and,  really,  it  was  not  a  dangerous  snake." 

"Ooh — h !  I  beg  that  you  will  not  mention  it,"  shiv- 
ered Miss  Slocum.  "For  my  part,  I  don't  expect  to  sleep 
anywhere  after  this  terrible  experience.  But  I'll  go 
wherever  Lorena  Jane  goes,  and  do  what  I  can  to  com- 
fort and  protect  her,  while  she  rests." 

Akkomi  sat  on  Harris'  doorstep,  and  smoked,  while 
they  argued  on  the  dangers  around  them,  arid  were  sat- 
isfied only  when  Overton  put  a  tent  at  their  disposal. 
They  proceeded  to  have  hammocks  swung  in  it  on  poles 
set  for  the  purpose,  as  they  could  feel  safe  on  no  bed  rest- 
ing on  the  ground. 

"But,  really,  my  conscience  troubles  me  about  leaving 
you  here  alone,  'Tana,"  said  Mrs.  Huzzard,  and  Overton 
also  looked  at  her  as  if  interested  in  her  comfort. 

"Well,  your  conscience  had  better  give  itself  a  rest,  if 
that  is  all  it  has  to  disturb  it,"  she  answered.  "I  don't 
care  the  least  bit  about  staying  alone — I  rather  like  it; 
though,  if  I  need  any  one,  I'll  have  Flap-Jacks  stay." 

So  Overton  left  them  to  their  arrangements,  and  said 
nothing  to  'Tana ;  but  as  Seldon  and  Haydon  were  about 
to  embark,  he  spoke  to  the  former. 

"I  may  not  be  able  to  get  up  there  after  all,  as  I  may 
feel  it  necessary  to  be  here  at  night,  so  don't  wait  for  me." 

"All  right,  Overton;  but  we'd  like  to  have  you." 

After  the  others  had  left  the  cabin,  Akkomi  still  re- 
mained, and  the  girl  watched  him  uneasily  but  did  not 
speak.  She  talked  to  Harris,  telling  him  of  the  funny 
actions  of  the  two  frightened  women,  but  all  the  time  she 


250  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

talked  and  tried  to  entertain  the  helpless  man,  it  was 
with  an  evident  effort,  for  the  dark  old  Indian's  face  at 
the  door  was  constantly  drawing  her  attention. 

When  she  finally  entered  her  own  room,  he  appeared  at 
the  entrance,  and,  after  a  careful  glance,  to  see  that  no 
one  was  near,  he  entered  and  spoke : 

1  'Tana,  it  is  now  two  suns  since  we  talked.  Will  you 
go  to-day  in  my  boat  for  a  little  ways  ?" 

"No,"  she  said,  angrily.  "Go  home  to  your  tepee, 
Akkomi,  and  tell  the  man  there  I  am  sorry  he  is  not  dead. 
I  never  will  see  him  again.  I  go  away  from  this  place 
now — very  soon — maybe  this  week.  What  becomes  of 
him  I  do  not  care,  and  it  will  be  long  before  I  come  back." 

He  muttered  some  words  of  regret,  and  she  turned  to 
him  more  kindly. 

"Yes,  I  know,  Akkomi,  you  are  my  good  friend.  You 
think  it  is  right  to  do  what  you  are  doing  now.  Maybe 
it  is ;  maybe  I  am  wrong.  But  I  will  not  be  different  in 
this  matter — never — never !" 

"If  he  should  come  here—" 

"He  would  not  dare.  There  are  people  here  he  had 
better  fear.  Give  him  the  names  of  Seldon  and  of  Hay- 
don." 

"He  knows;  but  it  is  the  new  miners  he  fears  most; 
they  come  from  all  parts.  He  wants  money." 

"Let  him  work  for  it,  like  an  honest  man,"  she  said, 
curtly.  "Don't  talk  of  it  again.  I  will  not  go  outside 
the  camp  alone,  and  I  will  not  listen  to  any  more  words 
about  it.  Now  mind  that!" 

In  the  other  cabin,  Harris  listened  intently  to  each 
word  uttered.  His  eyes  fairly  blazed  in  his  eagerness 
to  hear  'Tana's  final  decision.  But  when  Akkomi 
slouched  past  his  door,  and  peered  in,  with  his  sharp, 


THE  MAN  IN  AKKOMI'S  CLOAK        251 

quick  eyes,  he  had  relapsed  again  into  the  apathetic  state 
habitual  to  him.  To  all  appearances  he  had  not  heard 
their  words,  and  the  old  Indian  walked  thoughtfully  past 
the  tents  and  out  into  the  timber. 

Lyster  called  some  light  greeting  to  him,  but  he  barely 
looked  up  and  made  no  reply  whatever.  His  thoughts 
were  evidently  on  other  things  than  camp  sociabilities. 

It  was  dark  when  he  returned,  and  his  fit  of  thought- 
fulness  was  yet  upon  him,  for  he  spoke  to  no  one.  Over- 
ton,  who  had  been  talking  to  Harris,  noticed  him  smok- 
ing beside  the  door  as  he  came  out. 

"You  had  better  bring  your  camp  down  here/'  he  re- 
marked, ironically.  "Well,  for  to-night  you  will  have 
to  spread  your  blanket  in  this  room  if  Harris  doesn't 
object.  That  is  what  I  am  to  do,  for  I've  given  up  my 
quarters  to  the  ladies,  who  are  afraid  of  snakes." 

Akkomi  nodded,  and  then  Overton  moved  nearer  the 
door  again. 

"Jim,  I  may  not  be  back  for  an  hour  or  so.  I  am  going 
either  on  the  water  or  up  on  the  mountain  for  a  little 
while.  Don't  lie  awake  for  me,  and  I'll  send  a  fellow  in 
to  look  after  you." 

Harris  nodded,  and  'Tana,  in  her  own  room,  heard 
Overton's  steps  die  away  in  the  night.  He  was  going 
on  the  water  or  on  the  mountains — the  places  she  loved 
to  go,  and  dared  not. 

She  felt  like  calling  after  him  to  wait  to  take  her  with 
him  once  more,  and  did  rise  and  go  to  the  door,  'but  no 
farther. 

Lights  were  gleaming  all  along  the  little  stream; 
laughter  and  men's  voices  came  to  her  across  the  level. 
Her  own  corner  of  the  camp  looked  very  dark  and 


252  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

shadowy  in  comparison.  But  she  turned  back  to  it  with 
a  sigh. 

"You  may  go,  Flap-Jacks,"  she  said  to  the  squaw. 
"I  don't  mind  being  alone,  but  first  fix  the  bed  of 
Harris." 

She  noticed  Akkomi  outside  the  door,  but  did  not 
speak  to  him.  She  heard  the  miner  enter  the  other  cabin 
and  assist  Harris  to  his  couch  and  then  depart.  She 
wondered  a  little  that  the  old  Indian  still  sat  there  smok- 
ing, instead  of  spreading  his  blanket,  as  Overton  had 
invited  him  to  do. 

A  book  of  poems,  presented  to  her  by  Lyster,  was  so 
engrossing,  however,  that  she  forgot  the  old  fellow,  until 
a  movement  at  the  door  aroused  her,  and  she  turned  to 
find  the  silent  smoker  inside  her  cabin. 

But  it  was  not  Akkomi,  though  it  was  the  cloak  of 
Akkomi  that  fell  from  his  shoulders. 

It  was  a  man  dressed  as  an  Indian,  but  his  speech  was 
the  speech  of  a  white  man,  as  he  frowned  on  her  white, 
startled  face. 

"So,  my  fine  lady,  I've  found  you  at  last,  even  if  you 
have  got  too  high  and  mighty  to  come  when  I  sent  for 
you,"  he  said,  growlingly.  "But  I'll  change  your  tune 
very  quick  for  you." 

"Don't  forget  that  I  can  change  yours,"  she  retorted. 
"A  word  from  me,  and  you  know  there  is  not  a  man  in 
this  camp  wouldn't  help  land  you  where  you  belong — 
in  a  prison,  or  at  the  end  of  a  rope." 

"Oh,  no,"  and  he  grimaced  in  a  sardonic  way.  "I'm 
not  a  bit  afraid  of  that — not  a  bit  in  the  world.  You 
can't  afford  it.  These  high-toned  friends  you've  been 
making  might  drop  off  a  little  if  they  heard  your  old 
record." 


THE  MAN  IN  AKKOMI'S  CLOAK        253 

"And  who  made  it  for  me?"  she  demanded.  "You! 
You've  been  a  curse  to  every  one  connected  with  you. 
In  that  other  room  is  a  man  who  might  be  strong  and 
well  to-day  but  for  you.  And  there  is  that  girl  buried 
over  there  by  the  picture  rocks  of  Arrow  Lake.  Think 
of  my  mother,  dragged  to  death  through  the  slums  of 
'Frisco!  And  me — " 

"And  you  with  a  gold  mine,  or  the  price  of  one,"  he 
concluded — "plenty  of  money  and  plenty  of  friends.  That 
is  about  the  facts  of  your  case — friends,  from  million- 
aires down  to  that  digger  I  saw  you  with  the  other 
night." 

"Don't  you  dare  say  a  word  against  him!"  she  ex- 
claimed, threateningly. 

"Oh,  that's  the  way  the  land  lies,  is  it  ?"  he  asked,  with 
an  ugly  leer  at  her.  "And  that  is  why  you  were  playing 
'meet  me  by  moonlight  alone/  that  night  when  I  saw 
you  together  at  the  spring.  Well,  I  think  your  money 
might  help  you  to  some  one  besides  a  married  man." 

"A  married  man?"  she  gasped.     "Dan!" 

"Dan,  it  is,"  he  answered,  insolently.  "But  you 
needn't  faint  away  on  that  account.  I  have  other  use 
for  you — I  want  some  money." 

"You  are  telling  that  lie  about  him  because  you  think 
it  will  trouble  me,"  she  said,  regarding  his  painted  face 
closely  and  giving  no  heed  to  his  demand.  "You  know 
it  is  not  true." 

"About  the  marriage?    I'll  swear — " 

"I  would  not  believe  your  oath  for  anything." 

"Oh,  you  wouldn't?  Well,  now,  what  if  I  prove  to 
you,  right  in  this  camp,  that  I  know  his  wife  ?" 

"His  wife?"  She  sat  down  on  the  side  of  the  couch, 
and  all  the  cabin  seemed  whirling  around  her. 

17 


254  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"Well — a  girl  he  married.  You  may  call  her  what 
you  please.  She  had  been  called  a  good  many  things  be- 
fore he  picked  her  up.  Humph!  Now  that  he  has 
struck  it  rich,  some  one  ought  to  let  her  know.  She'd 
make  the  dollars  fly." 

"It  is  not  true!  It  is  not  true!"  she  murmured  to  her- 
self,  as  if  by  the  words  she  could  drive  away  the  pos- 
sibility of  it. 

He  appeared  to  enjoy  the  sensation  he  had  created. 

"It  is  true,"  he  answered — "every  word  of  it,  and  he 
has  been  keeping  quiet  about  it,  has  he  ?  Well,  see  here. 
You  don't  believe  me — do  you?  Now,  while  I  was  wait- 
ing there  at  the  door,  a  man  came  in  to  put  your  para- 
lyzed partner  to  bed.  The  man  was  Jake  Emmons — 
used  to  hang  out  at  Spokane.  He  knew  Lottie  Snyder 
before  this  Overton  did — and  after  Overton  married  her, 
too,  I  guess.  You  ask  him  anything  you  want  to  know 
of  it.  He  can  tell  you — if  he  will." 

She  did  not  answer.  She  feared,  as  he  talked,  that 
it  was  true;  and  she  longed  for  him  to  go  away,  that 
she  could  think  alone.  The  hot  blood  burned  in  her 
cheeks,  as  she  remembered  that  night  by  the  Twin 
Springs.  The  humiliation  of  it,  if  it  proved  true! 

"But,  see  here,  Tana.  I  didn't  come  here  to  talk 
about  your  virtuous  ranger.  I  want  some  money — 
enough  to  cut  the  country.  It  ain't  any  more  than  fair, 
anyway,  that  you  divide  with  me,  for  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  that  sneaking  hound  in  the  other  room,  half  of  this 
find  would  have  been  mine  a  year  ago." 

"It  will  do  more  good  where  it  is,"  she  answered. 
"He  did  right  not  to  trust  you.  And  if  he  were  able 
to  walk,  you  would  not  be  allowed  to  live  many  minutes 
within  reach  of  him." 


THE  MAN  IN  AKKOMFS  CLOAK        255 

"Oh,  yes;  I  know  he  was  trailing  me,"  he  answered, 
indifferently,  "but  it  was  no  hard  trick  to  keep  out  of 
his  road.  I  suppose  you  let  him  know  you  approve  of 
his  feelings  toward  me." 

"Yes,  I  would  load  a  gun  for  him  to  use  on  you  if  he 
were  able  to  hold  it,"  she  answered,  and  he  seemed  to 
think  her  words  amusing. 

"You  have  mighty  little  regard  for  your  duty  to  me," 
he  observed. 

"Duty?  I  can't  owe  you  any  duty  when  I  never  re- 
ceived any  from  you.  I  am  nearly  seventeen,  and  in  all 
the  years  I  remember  you,  I  can't  recall  any  good  act 
you  have  ever  done  for  me." 

"Nearly  seventeen,"  and  he  smiled  at  her  in  the  way 
she  hated.  "Didn't  your  new  uncle,  Haydon,  tell  you 
better  than  that?  You  are  nearly  eighteen  years  old." 

"Eighteen!"  and  she  rose  in  astonishment.     "I?" 

"You — though  you  don't  look  it.  You  always  were 
small  for  your  age,  so  I  just  told  you  a  white  lie  about  it 
in  order  to  manage  you  better.  But  that  is  over ;  I  don't 
care  what  you  do  in  the  future.  All  I  want  of  you  is 
money  to  get  to  South  America ;  so  fix  it  up  for  me." 

"I  ought  to  refuse,  and  call  them  in  to  arrest  you." 

"But  you  won't,"  he  rejoined.    "You  can't  afford  it." 

He  watched  her,  though,  with  some  uncertainty,  as 
she  sat  silent,  thinking. 

"No,  I  can't  afford  it,"  she  said,  at  last.  "I  will  be 
doing  wrong  to  help  you,  just  as  if  I  let  a  poison  snake 
loose  where  people  travel — for  that  is  what  you  are. 
But  I  am  not  strong  enough  to  let  these  friends  go  and 
start  over  again ;  so  I  will  help  you  away  this  once." 

He  drew  a  breath  of  relief,  and  gathered  up  his 
blanket. 


256  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"That  is  the  way  to  talk.    You've  got  a  level  head—" 

"That  will  do,"  she  said,  curtly.  "I  don't  want  praise 
from  a  coward,  a  thief,  or  a  murderer.  You  are  all 
three.  I  have  no  money  here.  You  will  have  to  come 
again  for  it  to-morrow  night." 

"A  trick— is  it?" 

"It  is  no  trick.  I  haven't  got  it,  that  is  all.  Maybe  I 
can't  get  it  in  money,  but  I  will  get  it  in  free  gold  by 
to-morrow  at  dusk.  I  will  put  it  here  under  the  pillow, 
and  will  manage  to  keep  the  rest  away  at  that  time. 
You  can  come  as  you  came  this  evening,  and  get  it;  but 
I  will  neither  take  it  nor  send  it  to  you.  You  will  have 
to  risk  your  freedom  and  your  life  to  come  for  it.  But 
while  I  can't  quite  decide  to  give  you  up  or  to  kill  you, 
myself,  I  hope  some  one  else  will." 

"Hope  what  you  please,"  he  returned,  indifferently. 
"So  long  as  you  get  the  dust  for  me,  I  can  stand  your 
opinion.  And  you  will  have  it  here  ?" 

"I  will  have  it  here." 

"I  trust  you  only  because  I  know  you  can't  afford  to 
go  back  on  me,"  he  said,  as  he  wrapped  the  blanket 
around  him,  and  dropped  his  taller  form  to  the  height 
of  Akkomi.  "It  is  a  bargain,  then,  my  dear.  Good- 
night.'" 

"I  don't  wish  you  a  good-night,"  she  answered.  "I 
hope  I  shall  never  see  you  alive  again." 

And  she  never  did. 


TANA'S  ENGAGEMENT  257 


CHAPTER  XX. 

'TANA'S  ENGAGEMENT. 

"And  she  wants  a  thousand  dollars  in  money  or  free 
gold — a  thousand  dollars  to-day  ?" 

"No  use  asking  me  what  for,  Dan,  for  I  don't  know," 
confessed  Lyster.  "I  can't  see  why  she  don't  tell  you 
herself;  but  you  know  she  has  been  a  little  queer  since 
the  fever — childish,  whimsical,  and  all  that.  Maybe  as 
she  has  not  yet  handled  any  specie  from  your  bonanza, 
she  wants  some  only  to  play  with,  and  assure  herself  it 
is  real." 

"Less  than  a  thousand  in  money  and  dust  would  do  for 
a  plaything,"  remarked  Overton.  "Of  course  she  has  a 
right  to  get  what  she  wants;  but  that  amount  will  be 
of  no  use  to  her  here  in  camp,  where  there  is  not  a 
thing  in  the  world  to  spend  it  for." 

"Maybe  she  wants  to  pension  off  some  of  her  Indian 
friends  before  she  leaves,"  suggested  Max — "old  Akkomi 
and  Flap- Jacks,  perhaps.  I  am  a  little  like  Miss  Slocum 
in  my  wonder  as  to  how  she  endures  them,  though,  of 
course,  the  squaw  is  a  necessity." 

"Oh,  well,  she  was  not  brought  up  in  the  world  of 
Miss  Slocum — or  your  world,  either,"  answered  Over- 
ton.  "You  should  make  allowance  for  that." 

"Make  allowance — I?"  and  Lyster  looked  at  him 
curiously.  "Are  you  trying  to  justify  her  to  me?  Why, 
man,  you  ought  to  know  by  this  time  what  keeps  me  here 


258  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

a  regular  lounger  around  camp,  and  there  is  no  need 
to  make  excuses  for  her  to  me.  I  thought  you  knew." 

"You  mean  you — like  her?" 

"Worse  than  that,"  said  Max,  with  his  cheery,  confi- 
dent smile.  "I'm  trying  to  get  her  to  say  she  likes  me." 

"And  she?" 

"Well,  she  won't  meet  me  as  near  half-way  as  I  would 
like,"  he  confessed;  "talks  a  lot  of  stuff  about  not  being 
brought  up  right,  and  not  suited  to  our  style  of  life  at 
home,  and  all  that.  But  she  did  seem  rather  partial  to 
me  when  she  was  ill  and  off  guard.  Don't  you  think  so  ? 
That  is  all  I  have  to  go  on;  but  it  encourages  me  to  re- 
member it." 

Overton  did  not  speak,  and  Lyster  continued  speculat- 
ing on  his  chances,  when  he  noticed  his  companion's 
silence. 

"Why  don't  you  speak,  Dan?  I  did  hope  you  would 
help  me  rather  than  be  indifferent." 

"Help  you!"  and  Lyster  was  taken  aback  at  the  fierce 
straightening  of  the  brows  and  the  strange  tone  in  which 
the  words  were  uttered.  The  older  man  could  not  but 
see  his  surprised  look,  for  he  recovered  himself,  and 
dropped  his  hand  in  the  old  familiar  way  on  Lyster's 
shoulder. 

"Not  much  chance  of  my  helping  you  when  she  em- 
ploys you  as  an  agent  when  she  wants  any  service,  rather 
than  exchange  words  with  me  herself.  Now,  that  is  the 
way  it  looks,  Max." 

"I  know,"  agreed  Lyster.  "And  to  tell  the  truth,  Dan, 
the  only  thing  she  does  that  really  vexes  me  is  her  queer 
attitude  toward  you  of  late.  I  can't  think  she  means  to 
be  ungrateful,  but — " 


'TANA'S  ENGAGEMENT  259 

"Don't  bother  about  that.  Everything  has  changed 
for  her  lately,  and  she  has  her  own  troubles  to  think  of. 
Don't  you  doubt  her  on  my  account.  Just  remember 
that.  And  if — she  says  'yes  '  to  you,  Max,  be  sure  I 
would  rather  see  her  go  to  you  than  any  other  man  I 
know." 

"That  is  all  right,"  observed  Lyster,  laughingly;  "but 
if  you  only  had  a  love  affair  or  two  of  your  own,  you 
could  perhaps  get  up  more  enthusiasm  over  mine." 

Then  he  sauntered  off  to  report  the  financial  interview 
to  Tana,  and  laughed  as  he  went  at  the  impatient  look 
flung  at  him  by  Overton. 

He  found  'Tana  visiting  at  the  tent  of  the  cousins,  who 
were  using  all  arguments  to  persuade  her  to  share  their 
new  abode.  Each  was  horrified  to  learn  that  she  had 
dismissed  the  squaw  at  sleeping  time,  and  had  remained 
in  the  cabin  alone. 

"Not  quite  alone,"  she  corrected,  "for  Harris  was  just 
€(i  the  other  side  of  the  door." 

"Much  protection  he  would  be." 

"Well,  then,  Dan  Overton  was  with  him.  How  is  he 
for  protection  ?" 

"Thoroughly  competent,  no  doubt,"  agreed  Miss  La- 
vina,  with  a  rather  scandalized  look.  "But,  my  dear, 
the  propriety?" 

"Do  you  think  Flap-Jacks  would  help  any  one  out  in 
propriety?"  retorted  'Tana.  "But  we  won't  stumble  over 
that  question  long,  for  I  want  to  leave  the  camp  and 
go  back  to  the  Ferry." 

"And  then,  Tana?" 

"And  then— I  don't  know,  Mrs.  Huzzard,  to  school, 
maybe— though  I  feel  old  for  that,  older  than  either  of 
you,  I  am  sure — so  old  that  I  care  nothing  for  all  the 


260  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

things  I  wanted  less  than  a  year  ago.  They  are  within 
my  reach  now,  yet  I  only  want  to  rest — " 

She  did  not  finish  the  sentence. 

Mrs.  Huzzard,  noticing  the  tired  look  in  her  eyes  and 
the  wistfulness  of  her  voice,  reached  out  and  patted  her 
head  affectionately. 

"You  want,  first  of  all,  to  grow  strong  and  hearty, 
like  you  used  to  be — that  is  what  you  need  first,  then  the 
rest  will  all  come  right  in  good  time.  You'll  want  to  see 
the  theaters,  and  the  pictures,  and  hear  the  fine  music 
you  used  to  talk  of.  And  you'll  travel,  and  see  all  the 
fine  places  you  used  to  dream  about.  Then,  maybe,  you'll 
get  ambitious,  like  you  used  to  be,  about  making  pictures 
out  of  clay.  For  you  can  have  fine  teaching  now,  you 
ktx.  v,  and  you'll  find,  after  a  while,  that  the  days  will 
hardly  seem  long  enough  for  all  the  things  you  want 
to  do.  That  is  how  it  will  be  when  you  get  strong 
again." 

'Tana  tried  to  smile  at  the  cheerful  picture,  but  the 
smile  was  not  a  merry  one.  Her  attention  was  given 
to  Lyster  and  Overton,  whom  she  could  see  from  the 
tent  door. 

How  tall  and  strong  Dan  looked !  Was  she  to  believe 
that  story  of  him  heard  last  night?  The  very  possibility 
of  it  made  her  cheeks  burn  at  the  thought  of  how  she 
had  stood  with  his  arm  around  her.  And  he  had  pitied 
her  that  night.  "Poor  little  girl !"  he  had  said.  Was  his 
pity  because  he  saw  how  much  he  was  to  her,  while  he 
himself  thought  only  of  some  one  else?  One  after  an- 
other those  thoughts  had  come  to  her  through  the  sleep- 
less night,  and  when  the  day  came  she  could  not  face 
him  to  speak  to  him  of  the  simplest  thing.  And  of  the 
money  she  must  have,  she  could  not  ask  him  at  all.  She 


TANA'S  ENGAGEMENT  261 

wished  she  could  have  courage  to  go  to  him  and  tell  him 
the  thing  she  had  heard;  but  courage  was  not  strong  in 
her  of  late.  The  fear  that  he  might  look  indifferently 
on  her  and  say,  "Yes,  it  is  true — what  then?" — the  fear 
of  that  was  so  great  that  she  had  walked  by  the  water's 
edge,  as  the  sun  rose,  and  felt  desperate  enough  to  think 
of  sleep  under  the  waves,  as  a  temptation.  For  if  it  was 
true — 

The  two  older  women  watched  her,  and  decided  that 
she  was  not  yet  strong  enough  to  think  of  long  journeys. 
Her  hands  would  tremble  at  times,  and  tears,  as  of  weak- 
ness, would  come  to  her  eyes,  and  she  scarcely  appeared 
to  hear  them  when  they  spoke. 

She  never  walked  through  the  woods  as  of  old,  though 
sometimes  she  would  stand  and  look  up  at  the  dark  hills 
with  a  perfect  hunger  in  her  eyes.  And  when  the  night 
breeze  would  creep  down  from  the  heights,  and  carry  the 
sweet  wood  scents  of  the  forest  to  her,  she  would  close 
her  eyes  and  draw  in  long  breaths  of  utter  content.  The 
strong  love  for  the  wild  places  was  as  second  nature  to 
her;  yet  when  Max  would  ask  her  to  go  with  him  for 
flowers  or  mosses,  her  answer  was  always  "no." 

But  she  would  go  to  the  boat  sometimes,  though  no 
longer  having  strength  to  use  the  paddle.  It  was  a  good 
place  to  think,  if  she  could  only  keep  the  others  from 
going,  too,  so  she  slipped  away  from  Max  and  the  women 
and  went  down.  A  chunky,  good-looking  fellow  was 
mending  one  of  the  canoes,  and  raised  his  head  at  her  ap- 
proach, nodding  to  her  and  evidently  pleased  when  she 
addressed  him. 

"Yes,  it  is  a  shaky  old  tub,"  he  agreed,  "but  I  told 
Overton  I  thought  it  could  be  fixed  to  carry  freight  for 
another  trip ;  so  he  put  me  at  it." 


262  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"You  are  new  in  camp,  aren't  you?"  she  asked,  not 
caring  at  all  whether  he  was  or  not.  She  was  always 
friendly  with  the  workmen,  and  this  one  smiled  and 
bowed. 

"We  are  all  that,  I  guess,"  he  said.  "But  I  came  up 
the  day  Haydon  and  Seldon  came.  I  lived  with  Seldon 
down  the  country,  and  was  staggered  a  little,  I  tell  you, 
when  I  found  Overton  was  in  charge,  and  had  struck  it 
rich.  But  no  man  deserves  good  luck  more." 

"No/'  she  agreed.    "Then  you  knew  him  before?" 

"Yes,  indeed — over  in  Spokane.  He  don't  seem  quite 
the  same  fellow,  though.  We  thought  he  would  just  go 
to  the  dogs  after  he  left  there,  for  he  started  to  drink 
heavily.  But  he  must  have  settled  in  his  own  mind  that 
it  wasn't  worth  while ;  so  here  he  is,  straight  as  a  string, 
and  counting  his  dollars  by  the  thousands,  and  I'm  glad 
to  see  it." 

"Drink!  He  never  drinks  to  excess,  that  we  know 
of,"  she  answered.  "Doesn't  seem  to  care  for  that  sort  of 
thing." 

"No,  he  didn't  then,  either,"  agreed  this  loquacious 
stranger,  "but  a  woman  can  drive  as  good  men  as  him 
to  drink;  and  that  is  about  the  way  it  was.  No  one 
thought  any  worse  of  Overton,  though — don't  think  that. 
The  worst  any  one  could  say  was  that  he  was  too  square 
—that's  all." 

Too  square!  She  walked  away  from  him  a  little  way, 
all  her  mind  aflame  with  his  suggestions.  He  had  taken 
to  drink  and  dissipation  because  of  some  woman.  Was 
it  the  woman  whose  name  she  had  heard  last  night  ?  The 
key  to  the  thing  puzzling  her  had  been  dropped  almost 
at  her  feet,  yet  she  feared  to  pick  it  up.  No  teaching  she 
had  ever  received  told  her  it  was  unprincipled  to  steal 


TANA'S  ENGAGEMENT  203 

through  another  the  confidence  he  himself  had  not  chosen 
to  give  her.  But  some  instinct  of  justice  kept  her  from 
further  question. 

She  knew  the  type  of  fellow  who  was  rigging  up  the 
canoe,  a  light-headed,  assuming  specimen,  who  had  not 
yet  learned  to  keep  a  still  tongue  in  his  head,  but  he  did 
not  impress  her  as  being  a  deliberate  liar.  Then,  all  at 
once,  she  realized  who  he  must  be,  and  turned  back. 
There  was  no  harm  in  asking  that,  at  any  rate. 

"You  are  the  man  whom  Overton  sent  to  put  Harris 
to  bed  last  night,  are  you  not  ?"  she  asked. 

He  nodded,  cheerfully. 

"And  your  name  is  Jake  Emmons,  of  the  Spokane 
country  ?" 

"Thet's  who,"  he  assented ;  "that's  where  I  came  across 
Lottie  Snyder,  Overton's  wife,  you  know.  I  was  running 
a  little  stage  there  for  a  manager,  and  she — " 

"I  am  not  asking  you  about — about  Mr.  Overton's  af- 
fairs," she  said,  and  she  sat  down,  white  and  dizzy,  on 
the  overturned  canoe.  "And  he  might  not  like  it  if  he 
knew  you  were  talking  so  free.  Don't  do  it  again." 

"All  right,"  he  agreed.  "I  won't.  No  one  here  seems 
to  know  about  the  bad  break  he  made  over  there;  but, 
Lord !  there  was  excuse  enough.  She  is  one  of  those 
women  that  look  just  like  a  little  helpless  baby ;  and  that 
caught  Overton.  Young,  you  know.  But  I  won't  whis- 
per her  name  in  camp  again,  for  it  is  hard  on  the  old  man. 
But,  as  you  are  partners,  I  guessed  you  must  know." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  faintly;  "but  don't  talk,  don't— 

"Say!  You  are  sick,  ain't  you?"  he  demanded,  as  her 
voice  dropped  to  a  whisper.  "Say!  Look  here,  Miss 
Rivers  !  Great  snakes  !  She's  fainted !" 

When  she  opened  her  eyes  again,  the  rough  roof  of 


264:  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

her  cabin  was  above  her,  instead  of  the  blue  sky.  The 
women  folks  were  using  the  camp  restorative — whisky — 
on  her  to  such  good  purpose  that  her  hands  and  face  and 
hair  were  redolent  of  it,  and  the  amount  she  had  been 
forced  to  swallow  was  strangling  her. 

The  face  she  saw  first  was  that  of  Max — Max,  dis- 
tressed and  anxious,  and  even  a  little  pale  at  sight  of  her 
death-like  face. 

She  turned  to  him  as  to  a  haven  of  refuge  from  the 
storm  of  emotion  under  which  she  had  fallen  prostrate. 

It  was  all  settled  now — settled  forever.  She  had  heard 
the  worst,  and  knew  she  must  go  away — away  from 
where  she  must  see  that  one  man,  and  be  filled  with 
humiliation  if  ever  she  met  his  gaze.  A  man  with  a  wife 
somewhere — a  man  into  whose  arms  she  had  crept! 

"Are  you  in  pain?"  asked  Miss  Lavina,  as  Tana 
groaned  and  shut  her  eyes  tight,  as  if  to  bar  out  memory. 

"No — nothing  ails  me.  I  was  without  a  hat,  and  the 
sun  on  my  head  made  me  sick,  I  suppose,"  she  answered, 
and  arose  on  her  elbow.  "But  I  am  not  going  to  be  a 
baby,  to  be  watched  and  carried  around  any  more.  I  am 
going  to  get  up." 

Just  outside  her  door  Overton  stood;  and  when  he 
heard  her  voice  again,  with  its  forced  independent  words, 
he  walked  away  content  that  she  was  again  herself. 

"I  am  going  to  get  up,"  she  continued.  "I  am  going 
away  from  here  to-morrow  or  next  day — and  there 
are  things  to  do.  Help  me,  Max." 

"Best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  lie  still  an  hour  or  two," 
advised  Mrs.  Huzzard,  but  the  girl  shook  her  head. 

"No,  I'm  going  to  get  up,"  she  said,  with  grim  de- 
cision ;  and  when  Lyster  offered  his  hand  to  help  her,  she 
took  it,  and,  standing  erect,  looked  around  at  the  couch. 


TANA'S  ENGAGEMENT  265 

"That  is  the  last  time  I'm  going  to  be  thrown  on  you  for 
any  such  fool  cause,"  she  said,  whimsically.  "Who  toted 
me  in  here — you?" 

"I  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  confessed  Lyster.  "Dan  reached 
you  before  any  of  the  others  knew  you  were  ill.  He 
carried  you  up  here." 

"He?  Oh!"  and  she  shivered  a  little.  "I  want  to 
talk  to  Harris.  Max,  come  with  me." 

He  went  wonderingly,  for  he  could  see  she  was  excited 
and  nervous.  Her  hand  trembled  as  it  touched  his,  but 
her  mouth  was  set  so  firmly  over  the  little  white  teeth 
that  he  knew  it  was  better  to  humor  her  than  fret  her 
by  persuading  her  to  rest. 

But  once  beside  Harris,  she  sat  a  long  time  in  silence, 
looking  out  from  the  doorway  across  the  level  now  active 
with  the  men  of  the  works.  Not  until  the  two  cousins 
had  walked  across  to  their  other  shelter  did  she  speak, 
and  then  it  was  to  Harris. 

"Joe,  I  am  sick,"  she  confessed;  "not  sick  with  the 
fever,  but  heartsick  and  headsick.  You  know  how  and 
maybe  why." 

He  nodded  his  head,  and  looked  at  Lyster  question- 
ingly. 

"And  I've  come  in  here  to  tell  you  something.  Max, 
you  won't  mind.  He  can't  talk,  but  knows  me  better 
than  you  do,  I  guess ;  for  I've  come  to  him  before  when 
I  was  troubled,  and  I  want  to  tell  him  what  you  said  to 
me  in  the  boat." 

Max  stared  at  her,  but  silently  agreed  when  he  saw  she 
was  in  earnest.  He  even  reached  out  his  hand  to  take 
hers,  but  she  drew  away. 

"Wait  till  I  tell  him,"  she  said,  and  turned  to  the  help- 


266  •      THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

less  man  in  the  chair.  "He  asked  me  to  marry  him — 
some  day.  Would  it  be  right  for  me  to  say  yes?" 

"  'Tana !"  exclaimed  Lyster ;  but  she  raised  her  hand 
pleadingly. 

"I  haven't  any  other  person  in  the  world  I  could  go 
to  and  ask,"  she  said.  "He  knows  me  better  than  you  do, 
Max,  and  I — Oh !  I  don't  think  I  should  be  always  con- 
tented with  your  ways  of  living.  I  was  born  different 
— a  heap  different.  But  to-day  it  seems  as  if  I  am  not 
strong  enough  to  do  without — some  one — who  likes  me, 
and  I  do  want  to  say  'yes'  to  you,  yet  I'm  afraid  it  is 
only  because  I  am  sick  at  Ireart  and  lonely." 

It  was  a  declaration  likely  to  cool  the  ardor  of  most 
lovers,  but  Lyster  reached  out  his  hand  to  her  and 
laughed. 

"Oh,  you  dear  girl,"  he  said,  fondly.  "Did  your  con- 
science make  it  necessary  for  you  to  confess  in  this 
fashion?  Now  listen.  You  are  weak  and  nervous; 
you  need  some  one  to  look  after  you.  Doesn't  she,  Har- 
ris? Well,  take  me  on  trial.  I  will  devote  myself  to, 
your  interests  for  six  months,  and  if  at  the  end  of  that 
time  you  find  that  it  was  only  sickness  and  loneliness 
that  ailed  you,  and  not  liking  me,  then  I  give  you  my 
word  I'll  never  try  to  hold  you  to  a  promise.  You  will 
be  well  and  strong  by  that  time,  and  I'll  stand  by  the 
decision  you  make  then.  Will  you  say  'yes/  now?" 

She  looked  at  Harris,  who  nodded  his  head.  Then  she 
turned  and  gave  her  hand  to  Max. 

"Yes,"  she  said.    "But  if  you  should  be  sorry-—" 

"Not  another  word,"  he  commanded;  "the  'yes'  is  all 
I  want  to  hear  just  now;  when  I  get  sorry  I'll  let  you 
know." 

And  that  is  the  way  their  engagement  began. 


LAVINA  AND  THE  CAPTAIN  26T 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

LAVINA   AND   THE   CAPTAIN. 

As  the  day  wore  on,  Tana  became  more  nervous  and 
restless.  With  the  dark,  that  man  was  to  come  for  the 
gold  she  had  promised. 

Lyster  brought  it  to  her,  part  in  money,  part  in  free 
gold,  and  as  he  laid  it  on  the  couch^  she  looked  at  him 
strangely. 

"How  much  you  trust  me  when  you  never  even  ask 
what  I  am  to  do  with  all  this !"  she  said.  "Yet  it  is  enough 
to  surprise  you." 

"Yes,  it  is,"  he  agreed.  "But  when  you  are  ready  you 
will  tell  me." 

"No,  I  will  not  tell  you,"  she  answered,  "but  it  is  the 
last  thing — I  think — that  I  will  keep  from  you,  Max. 
It  is  a  debt  that  belongs  to  days  before  I  knew  you. 
What  did  Overton  say?" 

"Not  much,  maybe  he  will  leave  for  the  upper  works 
this  evening  or  to-morrow  morning." 

"Did  you— did  you  tell  him—" 

"That  you  are  going  to  belong  to  me?  Well,  no,  I 
did  not.  You  forgot  to  give  me  permission." 

Her  face  flushed  shyly  at  his  words. 

"You  must  think  me  a  queer  girl,  Max,"  she  said. 
"And  you  are  so  good  and  patient  with  me,  in  spite  of 
my  queer  ways.  But,  never  mind;  they  will  not  last 
always,  I  hope." 


268  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"Which? — my  virtues  or  your  queerness?"  he  asked. 

She  only  smiled  and  pushed  the  gold  under  the  pillow. 

"Go  away  now  for  a  little  while.    I  want  to  rest." 

"Well,  rest  if  you  like;  but  don't  think.  You  have 
been  fretting  over  some  little  personal  troubles  until  you 
fancy  them  heavy  enough  to  overbalance  the  world.  But 
they  won't.  And  I'm  not  going  to  try  and  persuade  you 
into  Haydon's  house,  either,  now  that  you've  been  good 
to  me ;  unless,  of  course,  you  fall  in  love  with  Margaret, 
and  want  to  be  with  her,  and  it  is  likely  to  happen.  But 
Uncle  Seldon  and  my  aunts  will  be  delighted  to  have 
you,  and  you  could  live  as  quiet  as  you  please  there." 

"So  I  am  likely  to  fall  in  love  with  Margaret,  am  I  ?" 
she  asked.  "Why?  Does  everybody?  Did  you — Max? 
Now,  don't  blush  like  that,  or  I'll  be  sure  of  it.  I  never 
saw  you  blush  so  pretty  before.  It  made  you  almost 
good  looking.  Now  go ;  I  want  to  be  alone." 

"Sha'n't  I  send  one  of  the  ladies  up?" 

"Not  a  soul !     Go,  Max.     I  am  tired." 

So  he  went,  in  all  obedience,  and  he  and  the  cousins 
had  a  long  talk  about  the  girl  and  the  danger  of  leaving 
her  alone  another  night.  Her  sudden  illness  showed 
them  she  was  not  strong  enough  yet  to  be  allowed  to 
guide  herself. 

"I  shall  try  hard  to  get  her  to  leave  to-morrow,  or 
next  day,"  said  Lyster.  "Where  is  Dan?  I  would  like 
to  talk  to  him  about  it,  but  he  has  evidently  disappeared." 

"I  don't  know  what  to  think  of  Dan  Overton,"  con- 
fessed Mrs.  Huzzard.  "He  isn't  ever  around,  chatty  and 
sociable,  like  he  used  to  be.  When  we  do  see  him,  he  is 
nearly  always  busy;  and  when  he  isn't  busy,  he  strikes 
for  the  woods." 


LAVINA  AND  THE  CAPTAIN  269 

"Maybe  he  is  still  searching  for  new  gold  mines/'  sug- 
gested Miss  Lavina.  "I  notice  he  does  seem  very  much 
engaged  in  thought,  and  is  of  a  rather  solitary  nature." 

"Never  was  before,"  protested  her  cousin.  "And  if 
these  gold  finds  just  twist  a  person's  nature  crosswise, 
or  send  them  into  a  fever,  then  I  hope  the  good  Lord'll 
keep  the  rest  of  them  well  covered  up  in  future." 

"Lorena  Jane,"  said  Miss  Lavina,  in  a  reproachful 
tone,  "it  is  most  essential  that  you  free  yourself  from 
those  very  forcible  expressions.  They  are  not  a  bit 
genteel." 

"No,  I  reckon  they  ain't,  Lavina;  and  the  more  I 
try  the  more  I'm  afraid  I  never  will  be.  Land  sakes,  if 
folks  would  only  teach  their  young  ones  good  manners 
when  they  are  young,  what  a  sight  of  mortified  feelings 
would  be  saved  after  a  while!" 

Lyster  left  them  in  the  midst  of  the  very  earnest  plea 
for  better  training,  for  he  espied  a  new  boat  approaching 
camp.  As  it  came  closer,  he  found  that  among  the  other 
freight  it  carried  was  the  autocrat  of  Sinna  Ferry — 
Captain  Leek. 

"What  a  God-forsaken  wilderness!"  he  exclaimed, 
and  looked  around  with  a  supercilious  air,  suggesting 
that  he  would  have  given  the  Creator  of  the  Kootenai 
country  valuable  points  if  he  had  been  consulted.  "Well, 
my  dear  young  fellow,  how  you  have  managed  to  exist 
here  for  three  weeks  I  don't  know." 

"Well,  we  had  Mrs.  Huzzard,"  explained  Max,  with 
a  twinkle  in  his  eye ;  "and  she  is  a  panacea  for  many  ills. 
She  has  made  our  wilderness  very  endurable." 

"Yes,  yes;  excellent  woman,"  agreed  the  other,  with 
a  suspicious  look.  "And  'Tana  ?  How  is  she — the  dear 
girl !  I  really  have  been  much  grieved  to  hear  of  her  ill- 
is 


270  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

ness;  and  at  the  earliest  day  I  could  leave  my  business 
I  am  here  to  inquire  in  person  regarding  her  health." 

"Oh!"  and  Max  struggled  with  a  desire  to  laugh  at 
the  change  in  the  captain's  attitude  since  'Tana  was  a 
moneyed  individual  instead  of  a  little  waif.  Poor  Tana ! 
No  wonder  she  looked  with  suspicion  on  late-coming 
friends. 

"Yes,  she  is  better — much  better,"  he  continued,  as 
they  walked  up  from  the  boat.  "I  suppose  you  knew  that 
a  cousin  of  Mrs.  Huzzard,  a  lady  from  Ohio,  has  been 
with  us — in  fact,  came  up  with  our  party." 

"So  I  heard — so  I  heard.  Nice  for  Mrs.  Huzzard.  I 
was  not  in  town,  you  know,  when  you  rested  at  the 
Ferry.  I  heard,  however,  that  a  white  woman  had  come 
up.  Who  is  she?" 

They  had  reached  the  tent,  and  Mrs.  Huzzard,  after 
a  frantic  dive  toward  their  very  small  looking  glass, 
appeared  at  the  door  with  a  smile  enchanting,  and  a 
courtesy  so  nicely  managed  that  it  nearly  took  the  cap- 
tain's breath  away.  It  was  the  very  latest  of  Lavina's 
teachings. 

"Well,  now,  I'm  mighty — hem! — I'm  extremely 
pleased  that  you  have  called.  Have  a  nice  trip?" 

But  the  society  tone  of  Mrs.  Huzzard  was  so  unlike 
the  one  he  had  been  accustomed  to  hearing  her  use,  that 
the  captain  could  only  stare,  and  before  he  recovered 
enough  to  reply,  she  turned  and  beckoned  Miss  Slocum, 
with  the  idea  of  completing  the  impression  made,  and 
showing  with  what  grace  she  could  present  him  to  her 
cousin. 

But  the  lately  acquired  style  was  lost  on  him  this  time, 
overtopped  by  the  presence  of  Miss  Lavina,  who  gazed 
at  him  with  a  prolonged  and  steady  stare. 


LA  VINA  AND  THE  CAPTAIN  271 

"And  this  is  your  friend,  Captain  Leek,  of  the  Northern 
Army,  is  it?"  she  asked,  in  her  very  sharpest  voice — a 
voice  she  tried  to  temper  with  a  smile  about  her  lips, 
though  none  shone  in  her  eyes.  "I  have  no  doubt  you 
will  be  very  welcome  to  the  camp,  Captain  Leek." 

Mrs.  Huzzard  had  surely  expected  of  Lavina  a  much 
more  gracious  reception.  But  Mrs.  Huzzard  was  a  bit 
of  a  philosopher,  and  if  Lavina  chose  to  be  somewhat 
cold  and  unresponsive  to  the  presence  of  a  cultured  gen- 
tleman, well,  it  gave  Lorena  Jane  so  much  better  chance, 
and  she  was  not  going  to  slight  it. 

"Come  right  in;  you  must  be  dead  tired,"  she  said, 
cordially.  "Mr.  Max,  you'll  let  Dan  know  he's  here, 
won't  you — that  is,  when  he  does  show  up  again,  but 
no  one  knows  how  long  that  will  be." 

"Yes,  I  am  tired,"  agreed  the  captain,  meekly,  and 
not  quite  at  his  ease  with  the  speculative  eyes  of  Miss 
Slocum  on  him.  "I — I  brought  up  a  few  letters  that 
arrived  at  the  Ferry.  I  can't  make  up  my  mind  to  trust 
mail  with  these  Indian  boatmen  Dan  employs." 

"They  are  a  trial,"  agreed  Mrs.  Huzzard,  "though  they 
haven't  the  bad  effect  on  our  nerves  that  one  or  two 
of  the  camp  Indians  have — an  awful  squaw,  who  helps 
around,  and  an  ugly  old  man,  who  only  smokes  and  looks 
horrible.  Now,  Lavina — she  ain't  used  to  no  such,  and 
she  just  shivers  at  them." 

"Yes — ah — yes,"  murmured  the  captain. 

"Lavina  says  she  knew  folks  of  your  name  back  in 
Ohio,"  continued  Mrs.  Huzzard,  cheerfully,  in  order  to 
get  the  two  strangers  better  acquainted.  "I  thought  at 
first  maybe  you'd  turn  out  to  know  each  other;  but  she 
says  they  was  Democrats,"  and  she  turned  a  sharp  glance 
toward  him,  as  if  to  read  his  political  tendencies. 


272  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"No,  I  never  knew  any  Captain  Leek/'  said  Miss 
Slocum,  "and  the  ones  I  knew  hadn't  any  one  in  the  Union 
Army.  Their  principles,  if  they  had  any,  were  against 
it,  and  there  wasn't  a  Republican  in  the  family." 

"Then,  of  course,  that  would  settle  Captain  Leek  be- 
longing to  them/'  decided  Mrs.  Huzzard,  promptly.  "I 
don't  know  much  about  politics,  but  as  all  our  men  folks 
wore  the  blue  clothes,  and  fought  in  them,  I  was  always 
glad  I  come  from  a  Republican  State.  And  I  guess  all 
the  Republicans  that  carried  guns  against  the  Union 
could  be  counted  without  much  arithmetic." 

"I — I  think  I  will  go  and  look  for  Dan  myself,"  ob- 
served the  captain,  rising  and  looking  around  a  little 
uncertainly  at  Miss  Slocum.  "I  brought  some  letters 
he  may  want." 

He  made  his  bow  and  placed  the  picturesque  corded 
hat  on  his  head  as  he  went  out.  But  Mrs.  Huzzard 
looked  after  him  somewhat  anxiously. 

"He's  sick,"  she  decided  as  he  vanished  from  her  view ; 
"I  never  did  see  him  walk  so  draggy  like.  And  don't 
you  judge  his  manners,  either,  Lavina,  from  this  first 
sight  of  him,  for  he  ain't  himself  to-day." 

"He  didn't  look  to  me  as  though  he  knew  who  he  was," 
remarked  Lavina;  and  after  a  little  she  looked  up  from 
the  tidy  she  was  knitting.  "So,  Lorena  Jane,  that  is  the 
man  you've  been  trying  to  educate  yourself  up  to  more 
than  for  anybody  else — now,  tell  the  truth !" 

"Well,  I  don't  mind  saying  that  it  was  his  good  man- 
ners made  me  see  how  bad  mine  were,"  she  confessed; 
"but  as  for  training  for  him — " 

"I  see,"  said  Miss  Lavina,  grimly,  "and  it  is  all  right; 
but  I  just  thought  I'd  ask." 


LAVINA  AND  THE  CAPTAIN  273 

Then  she  relapsed  into  deep  thought,  and  made  the 
needles  click  with  impatience  all  that  afternoon. 

The  captain  came  near  the  tent  once,  but  retreated  at 
the  vision  of  the  knitter.  He  talked  with  Mrs.  Huzzard 
in  the  cabin  of  Harris,  but  did  not  visit  her  again  in  her 
own  tent;  and  the  poor  woman  began  to  wonder  if  the 
air  of  the  Kootenai  woods  had  an  erratic  influence  on 
people.  Dan  was  changed,  'Tana  was  changed,  and  now 
the  captain  seemed  unlike  himself  from  the  very  mo- 
ment of  his  arrival.  Even  Lavina  was  a  bit  curt  and  in- 
different, and  Lorena  Jane  wondered  where  it  would  end. 

In  the  midst  of  her  perplexity,  'Tana  added  to  it  by 
appearing  before  her  in  "the  Indian  dress  Overton  had 
presented  her  with.  Since  her  sickness  it  had  hung 
unused  in  her  cabin,  and  the  two  women  had  fashioned 
garments  more  suitable,  they  thought,  to  a  young  girl  who 
could  wear  real  laces  now  if  she  chose.  But  there  she  was 
again,  dressed  like  any  little  squaw,  and  although  rather 
pale  to  suit  the  outfit,  she  said  she  wanted  a  few  more 
"Indian  hours"  before  departing  for  the  far-off  Eastern 
city  that  was  to  her  as  a  new  world. 

She  received  Captain  Leek  with  an  unconcern  that 
was  discouraging  to  the  pretty  speeches  he  had  pre- 
pared to  utter. 

Dan  returned  and  looked  sharply  at  her  as  she  sat 
whittling  a  stick  of  which  she  said  she  meant  to  make  a 
cane — a  staff  for  mountain  climbing. 

"Where  do  you  intend  climbing?"  he  asked. 

She  waved  the  stick  toward  the  hill  back  of  them,  the 
first  step  of  the  mountain. 

"It  is  only  a  few  hours  since  I  picked  you  up  down 
there,  looking  as  if  you  were  dead,"  he  said,  impatiently ; 
"and  you  know  you  are  not  fit  to  tramp/* 


274:  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"Well,  I'm  not  dead  yet,  anyway,"  she  answered, 
with  a  shrug  of  her  shoulders;  "and  as  I'm  going  to 
break  away  from  this  camp  about  to-morrow,  I  thought 
I'd  like  to  see  a  bit  of  the  woods  first." 

"You — are  going — to-morrow  ?" 

"I  reckon  so." 

"  Tana !  And  you  have  not  said  a  word  to  me  of  it  ? 
That  was  not  very  friendly,  little  girl." 

She  did  not  reply,  but  bent  her  head  low  over  her 
work. 

After  observing  her  for  a  while  in  silence,  he  arose  and 
put  on  his  hat. 

"Here  is  my  knife,"  he  remarked.  "You  had  better 
use  it,  if  you  are  determined  to  haggle  at  that  stick. 
Your  own  knife  is  too  dull  for  any  use.  You  can  leave 
it  here  in  the  cabin  when  you  are  done  with  it." 

She  accepted  it  without  a  word,  but  flushed  red  when 
he  had  gone,  and  she  found  the  eyes  of  Harris  regard- 
ing her  sadly. 

"  'Not  very  friendly/  "  she  said,  going  over  Overton's 
words — "you  think  that,  too — don't  you?  You  think 
I'm  ugly,  and  saucy,  and  awful,  I  know!  You  look 
scoldings  at  me ;  but  if  you  knew  all,  maybe  you  wouldn't 
— if  you  knew  that  my  heart  is  just  about  breaking.  I'm 
going  out  where  there  is  no  one  to  talk  to,  or  I'll  be  cry- 
ing next." 

The  two  cousins  and  the  captain  were  in  'Tana's  cabin. 
Mrs.  Huzzard  was  determined  that  Miss  Slocum  and  the 
captain  should  become  acquainted,  and,  getting  sight  of 
the  girl,  who  was  walking  alone  across  the  level,  she 
at  once  followed  her,  thinking  that  the  two  left  behind 
would  perhaps  become  more  social  if  left  entirely  to 


LAVINA  AND  THE  CAPTAIN  275 

themselves.  And  they  did;  that  is,  they  talked,  and  the 
captain  spoke  first. 

"So  you — you  bear  a  grudge — don't  you,  Lavina?" 

"Well,  I  guess  if  I  owed  you  a  very  heavy  one,  I've 
got  a  good  chance  to  pay  it  off  now,"  she  remarked, 
grimly. 

He  twirled  his  hat  in  a  dejected  way,  and  did  not 
speak. 

"You  an  officer  in  the  Union  Army?"  she  continued, 
derisively.  "You  a  pattern  of  what  a  gentleman  should 
be;  you  to  set  up  as  superior  to  these  rough-handed 
miners;  you  to  act  as  if  this  Government  owes  you  a 
pension!  Why,  how  would  it  be  with  you,  Alf  Leek,  if 
I'd  tell  this  camp  the  truth  of  how  you  went  away,  en- 
gaged to  me,  twenty-five  years  ago,  and  never  let  me  set 
eyes  on  you  since — of  how  I  wore  black  for  you,  think- 
ing you  were  killed  in  the  war,  till  I  heard  that  you  had 
deserted.  I  took  off  that  mourning  quick,  I  can  tell  you ! 
I  thought  you  were  fighting  on  the  wrong  side;  yet  if 
you  had  a  good  reason  for  being  there,  you  should  have 
staid  and  fought  so  long  as  there  was  breath  in  you.  And 
if  I  was  to  tell  them  here  that  you  haven't  a  particle  of 
right  to  wear  that  blue  suit  that  looks  like  a  uniform,  and 
that  you  were  no  more  'captain'  of  anything  than  I  am — 
well,  I  guess  Lorena  Jane  wouldn't  have  much  to  say 
to  you,  though  maybe  Mr.  Overton  would." 

He  grew  actually  pale  as  he  listened.  His  fear  of  some 
one  overhearing  her  was  as  great  as  his  own  mortifi- 
cation. 

"But  you — you  won't  tell — will  you,  Lavina?"  he  said 
pleadingly.  "I  haven't  done  any  harm !  I — " 

"Harm!  Alf  Leek,  you  never  had  enough  backbone 
to  do  either  harm  or  help  to  any  one  in  this  world.  But 


276  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

don't  you  suppose  you  did  me  harm  when  you  spoiled 
me  for  ever  trusting  any  other  man?" 

"I — I  would  have  come  back,  but  I  thought  you'd  be 
married,"  he  said,  in  a  feeble,  hopeless  way. 

"Likely  that  is  now,  ain't  it?"  she  demanded.  And, 
woman-like,  now  that  she  had  reduced  him  to  meekness 
and  humiliation,  she  grew  a  shade  less  severe,  as  if  pretty 
well  satisfied.  "I  had  other  things  to  think  of  besides  a 
husband." 

"You  won't  tell — will  you,  Lavina?  I'll  tell  you  how 
it  all  happened,  some  day.  Then  I'll  leave  this  country." 

"You'll  not,"  she  contradicted.  "You'll  stay  right  here 
as  long  as  I  do,  and  I  won't  tell  just  so  long  as  you  keep 
from  trying  to  make  Lorena  Jane  believe  how  great  you 
are.  But  at  the  first  word  of  your  heroic  actions,  or  the 
cultured  society  you  were  always  used  to — " 

"You'll  never  hear  of  them,"  he  said  eagerly,  "never. 
I  knew  you  wouldn't  make  trouble,  Lavina,  for  you  al- 
ways were  such  a  good,  kind-hearted  girl." 

He  offered  his  hand  to  her,  sheepishly,  and  she  gave 
it  a  vixenish  slap. 

"Don't  try  any  of  your  skim-milk  praise  on  me,"  she 
said,  tartly.  "Huh!  You,  that  Lorena  thought  was  a 
pillar  of  cultured  society!  When,  the  Lord  knows,  you 
wouldn't  have  known  how  to  read  the  addresses  on  your 
own  letters  if  I  hadn't  taught  you !" 

He  moved  to  the  door  in  a  crestfallen  manner,  and 
stood  there  a  moment,  moistening  his  lips,  and  apparently 
swallowing  words  that  could  not  be  uttered. 

"That's  so,  Lavina,"  he  said,  at  last,  and  went  out. 

"There!"  she  muttered  aggrievedly — "that's  Alf  Leek, 
just  as  he  always  was.  Give  him  a  chance,  and  he'd  ride 
over  any  one;  but  get  the  upper  hand  of  him,  and  he  is 


LAVINA  AND  THE  CAPTAIN  277 

meeker  than  Moses.  Not  that  much  meekness  is  needed 
to  come  up  to  Moses,  either."  Then,  after  an  impatient 
tattoo,  she  exclaimed : 

"Gracious  me !    I  do  wish  he  hadn't  looked  so  crushed, 
and  had  talked  back  a  little." 


278  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE   MURDER. 

That  evening,  as  the  dusk  fell,  a  slight  figure  in  an 
Indian  dress  slipped  to  the  low  brush  back  of  the  cabin, 
and  thence  to  the  uplands. 

It  was  'Tana,  ready  to  endure  all  the  wilds  of  the 
woods,  rather  than  stay  there  and  meet  again  the  man 
she  had  met  the  night  before.  She  had  sent  the  squaw 
away;  she  had  arranged  in  Mrs.  Huzzard's  tent  a  little 
game  of  cards  that  would  hold  the  attention  of  Lyster  and 
the  others ;  and  then  she  had  slipped  away,  that  she  might, 
for  just  once  more,  feel  free  on  the  mountain,  as  she  had 
felt  when  they  first  located  their  camp  in  the  sweet  grass 
of  the  Twin  Springs. 

The  moon  would  be  up  after  a  while.  She  could  not 
walk  far,  but  she  meant  to  sit  somewhere  up  there  in 
the  high  ground  until  the  moon  should  roll  up  over  the 
far  mountains. 

The  mere  wearing  of  the  Indian  dress  gave  her  a 
feeling  of  being  herself  once  more,  for  in  the  pretty  con- 
ventional dress  made  for  her  by  Mrs.  Huzzard,  she  felt 
like  another  girl — a  girl  she  did  not  know  very  well. 

In  the  southwest  long  streaks  of  red  and  yellow  lay 
across  the  sky,  and  a  clear  radiance  filled  the  air,  as  it 
does  when  a  new  moon  is  born  after  the  darkness.  She 
felt  the  beauty  of  it  all,  and  stretched  out  her  arms  as 
though  to  draw  the  peaks  of  the  hills  to  her. 


THE  MURDER  279 

But,  as  she  stepped  forward,  a  form  arose  before  her 
tall,  decided  form,  and  a  decided  voice  said: 

"No,  'Tana,  you  have  gone  far  enough. " 

"Dan !" 

"Yes — it  is  Dan  this  time,  and  not  the  other  fellow. 
If  he  is  waiting  for  you  to-night,  I  will  see  that  he  waits 
a  long  time." 

"You — you!"  she  murmured,  and  stepped  back  from 
him.  Then,  her  first  fright  over,  she  straightened  her- 
self defiantly. 

"Why  do  you  think  any  one  is  waiting  for  me?"  she 
demanded.  "What  do  you  know?  I  am  heartsick  with 
all  this  hiding,  and — and  deceit.  If  you  know  the  truth, 
speak  out,  and  end  it  all !" 

"I  can't  say  any  more  than  you  know  already,"  he 
answered — "not  so  much;  but  last  night  a  man  was  in 
your  cabin,  a  man  you  know  and  quarreled  with.  I  didn't 
hear  you;  don't  think  I  was  spying  on  you.  A  miner 
who  passed  the  cabin  heard  your  voices  and  told  me 
something  was  wrong.  You  don't  give  me  any  right  to 
advise  you  or  dictate  to  you,  'Tana,  but  one  thing  you 
shall  not  do,  that  is,  steal  to  the  woods  to  meet  him.  And 
if  I  find  him  in  your  cabin,  I  promise  you  he  sha'n't  die 
of  old  age." 

"You  would  kill  him?" 

"Like  a  snake!"  and  his  voice  was  harsher,  colder, 
than  she  had  ever  heard  it.  "I'm  not  asking  you  any 
questions,  'Tana.  I  know  it  was  the  man  whom  you — 
saw  that  night  at  the  spring,  and  would  not  let  me  fol- 
low. I  know  there  is  something  wrong,  or  he  would 
come  to  see  you,  like  a  man,  in  daylight.  If  the  others 
here  knew  it,  they  would  say  things  not  kind  to  you. 
And  that  is  why  it  sha'n't  go  on." 


280  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"Sha'n't?    What  right  have  you— to— to— " 

"You  will  say  none/'  he  answered,  curtly,  "because 
you  do  not  know." 

"Do  not  know  what?"  she  interrupted,  but  he  only 
drew  a  deep  breath  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Tana,  don't  meet  this  man  again,"  he  said,  plead- 
ingly. "Trust  me  to  judge  for  you.  I  don't  want  to  be 
harsh  with  you.  I  don't  want  you  to  go  away  with  hard 
thoughts  against  me.  But  this  has  got  to  stop — you  must 
promise  -me." 

"And  if  I  refuse?" 

"Then  I'd  look  for  the  man,  and  he  never  would  meet 
you  again." 

A  little  shiver  ran  over  her  as  he  spoke.  She  knew 
what  he  meant,  and,  despite  her  bitter  words  last  night 
to  her  visitor,  the  thought  was  horrible  to  her  that  Dan — 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and  turned  away. 

"Don't  do  that,  little  girl,"  he  said,  and  laid  his  hand 
on  her  arm.  "  'Tana !" 

She  flung  off  his  hand  as  though  it  stung  her,  and  into 
her  mind  flashed  remembrance  of  Jake  Emmons  from 
Spokane — of  him  and  his  words. 

"Don't  touch  me!"  she  half  sobbed.  "Don't  you  say 
another  word  to  me !  I  am  going  away  to-morrow,  and 
I  have  promised  to  marry  Max  Lyster." 

His  hand  dropped  to  his  side,  and  his  face  shone  white 
in  the  wan  glimmer  of  the  stars. 

"You  have  promised  that?"  he  said,  at  last,  drawing 
his  breath  hard  through  his  shut  teeth.  "Well— it  is 
right,  I  suppose — right.  Come !  I  will  take  you  back  to 
him  now.  He  is  the  best  one  to  guard  you.  Come !" 

She  drew  away  and  looked  from  him  across  to  where 
the  merest  rim  of  the  rising  moon  was  to  be  seen  across 


THE  MURDER  281 

the  hills.  The  thought  of  that  other  night  came  to  her, 
the  night  when  they  had  stood  close  to  each  other  in  the 
moonlight.  How  happy  she  had  been  for  that  one  little 
space  of  time !  And  now — Ah !  she  scarcely  dare  allow 
him  to  speak  kindly  to  her,  lest  she  grow  weak  enough 
to  long  for  that  blind  content  once  more. 

"Come,  Tana." 

"Go.  I  will  follow  after  a  little,"  she  answered,  with- 
out turning  her  head. 

"I  may  never  trouble  you  to  walk  with  you  again,"  he 
said,  in  a  low,  constrained  tone;  "but  this  time  I  must 
see  you  safe  in  the  tent  before  I  leave." 

"Leave!  Going!  Where  to?"  she  asked,  and  her 
voice  trembled  in  spite  of  herself.  She  clasped  her  hands 
tightly,  and  he  could  see  the  flash  of  the  ring  he  had 
given  her.  She  had  put  it  on  with  the  Indian  dress. 

"That  does  not  matter  much,  does  it?"  he  returned; 
"but  somewhere,  far  enough  up  the  lake  not  to  trouble 
you  again  while  you  stay.  Come." 

She  walked  beside  him  without  another  word;  words 
seemed  so  useless.  She  had  said  words  over  and  over 
again  to  herself  all  that  day — words  of  his  wrong  to  her 
in  not  telling  her  of  that  other  woman,  words  of  re- 
proach, bitter  and  keen;  yet  none  of  her  reasoning  kept 
her  from  wanting  to  touch  his  hand  as  he  walked  beside 
her. 

But  she  did  not.  Even  when  they  reached  the  level 
by  the  springs,  she  only  looked  her  farewell  to  him,  but 
did  not  speak. 

"Good-by,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  that  was  not  like  Dan's 
voice. 

She  merely  bowed  her  head,  and  walked  away  toward 
the  tent  where  she  heard  Mrs.  Huzzard  laughing. 


282  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

She  halted  near  the  cabin,  and  then  hurried  on,  dread- 
ing to  enter  it  yet,  lest  she  should  meet  the  man  she 
was  trying  to  avoid. 

Overton  watched  her  until  she  reached  the  tent.  The 
moon  had  just  escaped  the  horizon,  and  threw  its  soft* 
misty  light  over  all  the  place.  He  pulled  his  hat  low 
over  his  eyes,  and,  turning,  took  the  opposite  direction. 

Only  a  few  minutes  elapsed  when  Lyster  remembered 
he  had  promised  Dan  to  look  after  Harris,  and  rose  to 
go  to  the  cabin. 

"I  will  go,  too,"  said  'Tana,  filled  with  nervous  dread 
lest  he  encounter  some  one  on  her  threshold,  though  she 
had  all  reason  to  expect  that  her  disguised  visitor  had 
come  and  gone  ere  that. 

"Well,  well,  'Tana,  you  are  a  restless  mortal,"  said 
Mrs.  Huzzard.  " You've  only  just  come,  and  now  you 
must  be  off  again.  What  did  you  do  that  you  wanted 
to  be  all  alone  for  this  evening?  Read  verses,  I'll  go 
bail." 

"No,  I  didn't  read  verses,"  answered  'Tana.  "But  you 
needn't  go  along  to  the  cabin." 

"Well,  I  will  then.  You  are  not  fit  to  sleep  alone. 
And,  if  it  wasn't  for  the  beastly  snakes! — " 

"We  will  go  and  see  Harris,"  said  the  girl,  and  so  they 
entered  his  cabin,  where  he  sat  alone  with  a  bright  light 
burning. 

Some  newspapers,  brought  by  the  captain,  were  spread 
before  him  on  a  rough  reading  stand  rigged  up  by  one  of 
the  miners. 

He  looked  pale  and  tired,  as  though  the  effort  of  perus^ 
ing  them  had  been  rather  too  much  for  him. 

Listen  as  she  might,  the  girl  could  hear  never  a  sound 
from  her  own  cabin.  She  stood  by  the  blanket  door, 


THE  MURDER  283 

connecting  the  two  rooms,  but  not  a  breath  came  to 
her.  She  sighed  with  relief  at  the  certainty  that  he  had 
come  and  gone.  She  would  never  see  him  again. 

"Shall  I  light  your  lamp?"  asked  Lyster;  and,  scarce 
waiting  for  a  reply,  he  drew  back  the  blanket  and  entered 
the  darkness  of  the  other  cabin. 

Two  of  the  miners  came  to  the  door  just  then,  detailed 
to  look  after  Harris  for  the  night.  One  was  the  good- 
natured,  talkative  Emmons. 

"Glad  to  see  you  are  so  much  better,  miss,"  he  said, 
with  an  expansive  smile.  "But  you  scared  the  wits  nearly 
out  of  me  this  morning." 

Then  they  heard  the  sputter  of  a  match  in  the  next 
room,  and  a  sharp,  startled  cry  from  Lyster,  as  the  blaze 
gave  a  feeble  light  to  the  interior. 

He  staggered  back  among  the  rest,  with  the  dying 
match  in  his  fingers,  and  his  face  ashen  gray. 

"Snakes!"  half  screamed  Mrs.  Huzzard.  "Oh,  my! 
oh,  my!" 

'Tana,  after  one  look  at  Lyster,  tried  to  enter  the  room, 
but  he  caught  and  held  her. 

"Don't,  dear !— don't  go  in  there !    It's  awful— awful !" 

"What's  wrong?"  demanded  one  of  the  miners,  and 
picked  up  a  lamp  from  beside  Harris. 

"Look !    It  is  Akkomi !"  answered  Lyster. 

At  the  name  'Tana  broke  from  him  and  ran  into  the 
room,  even  before  the  light  reached  it. 

But  she  did  not  take  many  steps.  Her  foot  struck 
against  something  on  the  floor,  an  immovable  body  and 
a  silent  one. 

"Akkomi — sure  enough,"  said  the  miner,  as  he  saw  the 
Indian's  blanket.  "Drunk,  I  suppose— Indian  fashion." 


2S4:  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

But  as  he  held  the  light  closer,  he  took  hold  of  the 
girl's  arm,  and  tried  to  lead  her  from  the  scene. 

"You'd  better  leave  this  to  us,  miss,"  he  added,  in  a 
grave  tone.  "The  man  ain't  drunk.  He's  been  mur- 
dered!" 

'Tana,  white  as  death  itself,  shook  off  his  grasp  and 
stood  with  tightly  clasped  hands,  unheeding  the  words  of 
horror  around  her,  scarce  hearing  the  shriek  of  Mrs. 
Huzzard,  as  that  lady,  forgetful  even  of  the  snakes,  sank 
to  the  floor,  a  very  picture  of  terror. 

'Tana  saw  the  roll  of  money  scattered  over  the  couch ; 
the  little  bag  of  free  gold  drawn  from  under  the  pillow. 
He  had  evidently  been  stooping  to  secure  it  when  the 
assassin  crept  behind  him  and  left  him  dead  there,  with 
a  knife  sticking  between  his  shoulders. 

"The  very  knife  you  had  to-day !"  said  Lyster,  horror- 
stricken  at  the  sight. 

The  miner  with  the  lamp  turned  and  looked  at  her 
strangely,  and  his  eyes  dropped  from  her  face  to  her 
clasped  hands,  on  which  the  ring  of  the  snakes  glittered. 

"Your  knife?"  he  asked,  and  others,  attracted  by  Mrs. 
Huzzard's  scream,  stood  around  the  doors  and  looked  at 
her  too. 

She  nodded  her  head,  scarce  understanding  the  signifi- 
cance of  it,  and  never  taking  her  eyes  from  the  dead 
man,  whose  face  was  yet  hidden. 

"He  may  not  be  dead,"  she  said,  at  last.     "Look!" 

"Oh,  he's  dead,  safe  enough,"  and  Emmons  lifted  his 
hand.  "Was  he  trying  to  rob  you  ?" 

"I — no — I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  vaguely. 

Then  another  man  turned  the  body  over,  and  utter 
surprise  was  on  every  face;  for,  though  it  was  Akkomi's 
blanket,  it  was  a  much  younger  man  who  lay  there. 


THE  MURDER  285 

"A  white  man,  by  Heavens!"  said  the  miner  who  had 
first  entered.  "A  white  man,  with  brown  paint  on  his 
face  and  hands!  But,  look  here!"  and  he  pulled  down 
the  collar  of  the  dead  man's  shirt,  and  showed  a  skin  fair 
as  a  child's. 

"Something  terribly  crooked  here,"  he  continued. 
"Where  is  Overton?" 

Overton !  At  the  name  her  very  heart  grew  cold  within 
her.  Had  he  not  threatened  he  would  kill  the  man  who 
visited  her  at  night?  Had  he  come  straight  to  the  cabin 
after  leaving  her  ?  Had  he  kept  his  word  ?  Had  he — 

"I  think  Overton  left  camp  after  supper — started  for 
the  lake,"  answered  some  one. 

"Well,  we'll  do  our  best  to  get  it  straight  without  him, 
then.  Some  of  you  see  what  time  it  is.  This  man  has 
been  dead  about  a  half  hour.  Mr.  Lyster,  you  had  better 
write  down  all  about  it ;  and,  if  any  one  here  has  any  in- 
formation to  give,  let  him  have  it." 

His  eyes  were  on  the  girl's  face,  but  she  said  nothing, 
and  he  bent  to  wipe  off  the  stain  from  the  dead  man's 
face.  Some  one  brought  water,  and  in  a  little  while  was 
revealed  the  decidedly  handsome  face  of  a  man  about 
forty-five  years  old. 

"Do  any  of  you  know  him  ?"  asked  the  miner,  who,  by 
circumstance,  appeared  to  have  been  given  the  office  of 
speaker — "look — all  of  you." 

One  after  another  the  men  approached,  but  shook  their 
heads;  until  an  old  miner,  gray-haired  and  weather- 
beaten,  gave  vent  to  a  half -smothered  oath  at  sight  of  him. 

"Know  him?"  he  exclaimed.  "Well,  I  do,  though  it's 
five  years  since  I  saw  him.  Heavens!  I'd  rather  have 
found  him  alive  than  dead,  though,  for  there  is  a  stand- 

19 


286  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

ing  reward  offered  for  him  by  two  States.  Why,  it's  the 
card-sharper,  horse-thief  and  renegade — Lee  Holly!" 

"But  who  could  have  killed  him?" 

"That  is  Overton's  knife,"  said  one  of  the  men. 

"But  Overton  had  not  had  it  since  noon/'  said  Tana, 
speaking  for  the  first  time  in  explanation.  "I  borrowed 
it  then." 

"You  borrowed  it?    For  what?" 

"Oh— I  forget.    To  cut  a  stick  with,  I  think." 

"You  think.  I'm  sorry  to  speak  rough  to  a  lady,  miss, 
but  this  is  a  time  for  knowing — not  thinking." 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  demanded  Lyster. 

The  man  looked  at  him  squarely. 

"Nothing  to  offend  innocent  folks,"  he  answered.  "A 
murder  has  been  done  in  this  lady's  room,  with  a  knife 
she  acknowledges  she  has  had  possession  of.  It's  natu- 
ral enough  to  question  her  first  of  all." 

The  color  had  crept  into  her  face  once  more.  She  knew 
what  the  man  meant,  and  knew  that  the  longer  they 
looked  on  her  with  suspicion,  the  more  time  Overton 
would  have  to  escape.  Then,  when  they  learned  they 
were  on  a  false  scent,  it  would  be  late — too  late  to  start 
after  him.  She  wished  he  had  taken  the  money  and  the 
gold.  She  shuddered  as  she  thought  him  a  murderer — 
the  murderer  of  that  man ;  but,  with  what  skill  she  could, 
she  would  keep  them  off  his  track. 

Her  thoughts  ran  fast,  and  a  half  smile  touched  her 
lips.  Even  with  that  dead  body  at  her  feet,  she  was  al- 
most happy  at  the  hope  of  saving  him.  The  others  no- 
ticed it,  and  looked  at  her  in  wonder.  Lyster  said : 

"You  are  right.  But  Miss  Rivers  could  know  nothing 
of  this.  She  has  been  with  us  since  the  moon  rose,  and 
that  is  more  than  a  half-hour." 


THE  MURDER  287 

"No,  only  fifteen  minutes,"  said  one  of  the  men. 

"Well,  where  were  you  for  the  half-hour  before  the 
moon  rose?"  asked  the  man  who  seemed  examiner. 
"That  is  really  the  time  most  interesting  to  this  case." 

"Why,  good  heavens,  man!"  cried  Lyster,  but  'Tana 
interrupted : 

"I  was  walking  up  on  the  hill  about  that  time." 

"Alone?" 

"Alone." 

Mrs.  Huzzard  groaned  dismally,  and  Lyster  caught 
Tana  by  the  hand. 

"  'Tana !  think  what  you  are  saying.  You  don't  realize 
how  serious  this  is." 

"One  more  question,"  and  the  man  looked  at  her 
very  steadily.  "Were  you  not  expecting  this  man  to- 
night?" 

"I  sha'n't  answer  any  more  of  your  questions,"  she 
answered,  coldly. 

Lyster  turned  on  the  man  with  clenched  hands  and  a 
face  white  with  anger. 

"How  dare  you  insult  her  with  such  a  question?"  he 
asked,  hoarsely.  "How  could  it  be  possible  for  Miss 
Rivers  to  know  this  renegade  horse-thief?" 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you,"  said  the  man,  drawing  a  long 
breath  and  looking  at  the  girl.  "It  ain't  a  pleasant  thing 
to  do;  but  as  we  have  no  courts  up  here,  we  have  to 
straighten  out  crimes  in  a  camp  the  best  way  we  can. 
My  name  is  Saunders.  That  man  over  there  is  right — 
this  is  Lee  Holly ;  and  I  am  sure  now  that  I  saw  him  leave 
this  cabin  last  night.  I  passed  the  cabin  and  heard 
voices — hers  and  a  man's.  I  heard  her  say:  'While  I 
can't  quite  decide  to  kill  you  myself,  I  hope  some  one 
else  will.'  The  rest  of  their  words  were  not  so  clear.  I 


288  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

told  Overton  when  he  came  back,  but  the  man  was 
gone  then.  You  ask  me  how  I  dare  think  she  could  tell 
something  of  this  if  she  chose.  Well,  I  can't  help  it. 
She  is  wearing  a  ring  I'll  swear  I  saw  Lee  Holly  weart 
three  years  ago,  at  a  card  table  in  Seattle.  I'll  swear  it ! 
And  he  is  lying  here  dead  in  her  room,  with  a  knife 
sticking  in  him  that  she  had  possession  of  to-day.  Now, 
gentlemen,  what  do  you  think  of  it  yourselves  ?" 


GOOD-BY  289 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

GOOD-BY. 

"Oh,  'Tana,  it  is  awful — awfu\!"  and  poor  Mrs.  Huz- 
zard  rocked  herself  in  a  spasm  of  woe.  "And  to  think 
that  you  won't  say  a  word — not  a  single  word!  It  just 
breaks  my  heart." 

"Now,  now!  I'll  say  lots  of  things  if  you  will  talk 
of  something  besides  murders.  And  I'll  mend  your 
broken  heart  when  this  trouble  is  all  over,  you  will  see!" 

"Over!  I'm  mightily  afraid  it  is  only  commencing. 
And  you  that  cool  and  indifferent  you  are  enough  to  put 
one  crazy!  Oh,  if  Dan  Overton  was  only  here." 

The  girl  smiled.  All  the  hours  of  the  night  had  gone 
by.  He  had  at  least  twelve  hours'  start,  and  the  men 
of  the  camp  had  not  yet  suspected  him  for  even  a  mo- 
ment. They  had  questioned  Harris,  and  he  told  them,  by 
signs,  that  no  man  had  gone  through  his  cabin,  no  one 
had  been  in  since  dark;  but  he  had  heard  a  movement 
in  the  other  room.  The  knife  he  had  seen  'Tana  take  in- 
to the  qther  room  long  before  dark. 

"And  some  one  quarreling  with  this  Holly — or  fol- 
lowing him — may  have  chanced  on  it  and  used  it,"  con- 
tested Lyster,  who  was  angered,  dismayed,  and  puzzled 
at  'Tana,  quite  as  much  as  at  the  finding  of  the  body. 
Her  answers  to  all  questions  were  so  persistently  detri- 
mental to  her  own  cause. 


290  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"Don't  be  uneasy — they  won't  hang  me,"  she  assured 
him.  "Think  of  them  hanging  any  one  for  killing  Lee 
Holly !  The  man  who  did  it — if  he  knows  whom  he 
was  settling  for — was  a  fool  not  to  face  the  camp  and 
get  credit  for  it.  Every  man  would  have  shaken  hands 
with  him.  But  just  because  there  is  a  little  mystery 
about  it,  they  try  to  make  it  out  a  crime.  Pooh !" 

"Oh,  child !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Huzzard,  totally  scandal- 
ized. "A  murder!  Of  course  it  is  a  crime — the  great- 
est." 

"I  don't  think  so,  It  is  a  greater  crime  to  bring  a 
soul  into  the  world  and  then  neglect  it — let  it  drift  into 
any  hell  on  earth  that  nets  it — than  it  is  to  send  a  soul 
out  of  the  world,  to  meet  heaven,  if  it  deserves  it.  There 
are  times  when  murder  is  justifiable,  but  there  are  cer- 
tain other  crimes  that  nothing  could  ever  justify." 

"Why,  Tana!"  and  Mrs.  Huzzard  looked  at  her  help- 
lessly. But  Miss  Slocum  gave  the  girl  a  more  under- 
standing regard. 

"You  speak  very  bitterly  for  a  young  girl;  as  if  you 
had  thought  a  great  deal  on  this  question." 

"I  have,"  she  acknowledged,  promptly;  "you  think  it 
is  not  a  very  nice  question  for  girls  to  study  about, 
don't  you  ?  Well,  it  isn't  nice,  but  it's  true.  I  happen  to 
be  one  of  the  souls  dragged  into  life  by  people  who 
didn't  think  they  had  responsibilities.  Miss  Slocum, 
maybe  that  is  why  I  am  extra  bitter  on  the  subject." 

"But  not — not  against  your  parents,  'Tana?"  said 
Mrs.  Huzzard,  in  dismay. 

The  girl's  mouth  drew  hard  and  unlovely  at  the  ques- 
tion. 

"I  don't  know  much  about  religion,"  she  said,  after 
a  little,  "and  I  don't  know  that  it  matters  much — now 


GOOD-BY  291 

don't  faint,  Mrs.  Huzzard!  but  I'm  pretty  certain  old 
married  men  who  had  families  were  the  ones  who  laid 
down  the  law  about  children  in  the  Bible.  They  say 
'spare  the  rod  and  spoil  the  child,'  and  then  say  'honor 
your  father  and  mother.'  They  seem  to  think  it  a  settled 
thing  that  all  fathers  and  mothers  are  honorable — but 
they  ain't;  and  that  all  children  need  beating — and  they 
don't." 

"Oh,  'Tana!" 

"And  I  think  it  is  that  one-sided  commandment  that 
makes  folks  think  that  all  the  duty  must  go  from  children 
to  the  parents,  and  not  a  word  is  said  of  the  duty  people 
owe  to  the  souls  they  bring  into  the  world.  I  don't 
think  i<?s  a  square  deal." 

"A  square  deal !    Why,  Tana !" 

"Isn't  it  so?"  she  asked,  moodily.  "You  think  a  girl 
is  a  pretty  hard  case  if  she  doesn't  give  proper  respect 
and  duty  to  her  parents,  don't  you?  But  suppose  they 
are  the  sort  of  people  no  one  can  respect — what  then? 
Seems  to  me  the  first  duty  is  from  the  parent  to  the 
children — the  duty  of  caring  for  them,  loving  them,  and 
teaching  them  right.  A  child  can't  owe  a  debt  of  duty 
when  it  never  received  the  duties  it  should  have  first, 
Oh,  I  may  not  say  this  clearly  as  I  feel  it." 

"But  you  know,  Tana,"  said  Miss  Slocum,  "tjiat  if 
there  is  no  commandment  as  to  parents  giving  care  to 
their  children,  it  is  only  because  it  is  so  plainly  a  natural 
thing  to  do  that  it  was  unnecessary  to  command  it." 

"No  more  natural  than  for  a  child  to  honor  any  per- 
son who  is  honorable,  or  to  love  the  parent  who  loves 
him,  and  teaches  him  rightly.  Huh!  If  a  child  is  not 
able  to  love  and  respect  a  parent,  it  is  the  child  who 
loses  the  most." 


292  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

Miss  Slocum  looked  at  her  sadly. 

"I  can't  scold  you  as  I  would  try  to  scold  many  a  one 
in  your  place/'  she  said,  "for  I  feel  as  if  you  must  have 
traveled  over  some  long,  hard  path  of  troubles,  before 
you  could  reach  this  feeling  you  have.  But,  'Tana,  think 
of  brighter  things;  young  girls  should  never  drift  into 
those  perplexing  questions.  They  will  make  you  melan- 
choly if  you  brood  on  such  things." 

"Melancholy?  Well,  I  think  not,"  and  she  smiled 
and  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "Seems  to  me  I'm  the  least 
gloomy  person  in  camp  this  morning.  All  the  rest  of 
you  look  as  though  Mr.  Holly  had  been  your  bosom 
friend." 

She  talked  recklessly — they  thought  heartlessly — of 
the  murder,  and  the  two  women  were  strongly  inclined 
to  think  the  shock  of  the  affair  had  touched  her 
brain,  for  she  showed  no  concern  whatever  as  to  her 
own  position,  but  treated  it  as  a  joke.  And  when  she 
realized  that  she  was  to  a  certain  extent  under  guard, 
she  seemed  to  find  amusement  in  that,  too.  Her  expres- 
sions, when  the  cousins  grew  pitiful  over  the  handsome 
face  of  Holly,  were  touched  with  ridicule. 

"I  wonder  if  there  was  ever  a  man  too  low  and  vile 
to  get  woman's  pity,  if  he  only  had  a  pretty  face,"  she 
said,  caustically.  "If  he  was  an  ugly,  old,  half-decent 
fellow,  you  wouldn't  be  making  any  soft-hearted  sur- 
mises as  to  what  he  might  have  been  under  different  cir- 
cumstances. He  has  spoiled  the  lives  of  several  tender- 
hearted women  like  you — yet  you  pity  him !" 

"  Tana,  I  never  knew  you  to  be  so  set  against  any^ 
one  as  you  are  against  that  poor  dead  man,"  declared 
Mrs.  Huzzard.  "Not  so  much  wonder  the  folks  think 
you  know  how  it  happened,  for  you  always  had  a  help- 


GOOD-BY 

ing  word  for  the  worst  old  tramp  or  beggarly  Indian  that 
came  around;  but  for  this  man  you  have  nothing  but 
unkindness." 

"No,"  agreed  the  girl,  "and  you  would  like  to  think 
him  a  romantic  victim  of  somebody,  just  because  he  is 
so  good-looking.  I'm  going  to  talk  to  Harris.  He  won't 
sympathize  with  the  wrong  side,  I  am  sure." 

He  looked  up  eagerly  as  she  entered,  his  eyes  full  of 
anxious  question.  She  touched  his  hand  kindly  and  sat 
close  beside  him  as  she  talked. 

"You  want  to  know  all  about  it,  don't  you?"  she 
asked,  softly.  "Well,  it  is  all  over.  He  was  alive,  after 
all,  and  I  would  not  believe  it.  But  now  you  need 
never  trail  him  again,  you  can  rest  now,  for  he  is  dead. 
Somebody  else  has — has  owed  him  a  grudge,  too.  They 
think  I  am  the  somebody,  but  you  don't  believe  that?" 

He  shook  his  head  decidedly. 

"No,"  she  continued;  "though  for  one  moment,  Joe, 
I  thought  that  it  might  have  been  you.  Yes,  I  did ;  for 
of  course  I  knew  it  was  only  weakness  would  keep  you 
from  it,  if  you  were  in  reach  of  him.  But  I  remembered 
at  once  that  it  could  not  be,  for  the  hand  that  struck  him 
was  strong." 

He  assented  in  his  silent  way,  and  watched  her  face 
closely,  as  if  to  read  the  shadows  of  thought  thrown  on 
it  by  her  feelings. 

"It's  awful,  ain't  it?"  she  whispered.  "It  is  what  I 
said  I  hoped  for,  and  just  yet  I  can't  be  sorry — I  can't! 
But,  after  this  stir  is  all  over,  I  know  it  will  trouble  me, 
make  me  sorry  because  I  am  not  sorry  now.  I  can't 
cry,  but  I  do  feel  like  screaming.  And  see!  every  once 
in  a  while  my  hands  tremble ;  I  tremble  all  over.  Oh,  it 
is  awful !" 


THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands.  Only  to  him  did 
she  show  any  of  the  feeling  with  which  the  death  of  the 
man  touched  her. 

"And  you  can't  tell  me  anything  of  how  it  was  done  ?" 
she  said,  at  last.  "You  so  near — did  you  see  any  one?" 

She  longed  to  ask  if  he  had  seen  Overton,  but  dared 
not  utter  his  name,  lest  he  might  suspect  as  she  did. 
Each  hour  that  went  by  was  an  added  gain  to  her  for 
him.  Of  course  he  had  struck,  not  knowing  who  the 
man  was.  If  he  had  known,  it  would  have  been  so  easy 
to  say,  "1  found  him  robbing  the  cabin.  I  killed  him/' 
and  there  would  have  been  no  further  question  concern- 
ing it. 

"But  if  all  the  other  bars  were  beaten  down  between 
us,  this  one  would  keep  me  from  ever  shaking  hands 
with  him  again.  Why  should  it  have  been  he  out  of 
all  the  camp  ?  Oh,  it  makes  my  heart  ache !" 

While  she  sat  thus,  with  miserable  thoughts,  others 
came  to  the  door,  and  looking  up,  she  saw  Akkomi,  who 
looked  on  her  with  keen,  accusing  eyes. 

"No — it  is  not  true,  Akkomi/'  she  said,  in  his  own 
jargon.  "Keep  silent  for  a  little  while  of  the  things 
these  people  do  not  know — a  little  while,  and  then  I  can 
tell  you  who  it  is  I  am  shielding,  but  not  yet." 

"Him!"  and  the  eyes  of  the  Indian  turned  to  the 
paralytic. 

"No — not  him;  truly  not,"  she  said,  earnestly.  ".It 
is  some  one  you  would  want  to  help  if  you  knew — 
some  one  who  is  going  fast  on  the  path  from  these  peo- 
ple. They  will  learn  soon  it  is  not  I ;  but  till  then,  keep 
silence." 

"Dan — where?"  he  asked,  laconically,  and  her  face 
paled  at  the  question. 


GOOD-BY  295 

Had  he  any  reason  to  suspect  the  dread  in  her  own 
mind?  But  a  moment's  thought  reassured  her.  He  had 
asked  simply  because  Overton  seemed  always  to  him 
the  controlling  spirit  of  the  camp,  and  Overton  was  the 
one  he  would  have  speech  with,  if  any. 

"Overton  left  last  night  for  the  lake/'  explained  Lys- 
ter,  who  had  entered  and  heard  the  name  of  Dan  and 
the  'interrogative  tone.  Then  the  blanket  was  brought 
to  Akkomi — his  blanket,  in  which  the  man  had  died. 

"I  sold  it  to  the  white  man — that  is  all/'  he  answered 
through  'Tana;  and  more  than  that  he  would  not  say 
except  to  inform  them  he  would  wait  for  Dan.  Which 
was,  in  fact,  the  general  desire  of  the  committee  organ- 
ized to  investigate. 

They  all  appeared  to  be  waiting  for  Dan.  Lyster 
did  not  by  any  means  fill  his  place,  simply  because  Lys- 
ter's  interest  in  'Tana  was  too  apparent,  and  there  was 
little  of  the  cool  quality  of  reason  in  his  attitude  toward 
the  mysterious  case.  He  did  not  believe  the  ring  she 
wore  had  belonged  to  Holly,  though  she  refused  to  tell 
the  source  from  which  it  had  reached  her.  He  did  not 
believe  the  man  who  said  he  heard  that  war  of  words 
at  her  cabin  in  the  evening — at  least,  when  others  were 
about,  he  acted  as  if  he  did  not  believe  it.  But  when 
he  and  'Tana  chanced  to  be  alone,  she  felt  the  doubt 
there  must  be  in  his  mind,  and  a  regret  for  him  touched 
her.  For  his  sake  she  was  sorry,  but  not  sorry  enough 
to  clear  the  mystery  at  the  expense  of  that  other  man 
she  thought  she  was  shielding. 

Captain  Leek  had  been  dispatched  with  all  speed  to 
the  lake  works,  that  Seldon,  Haydon,  and  Overton 
might  be  informed  of  the  trouble  in  camp,  and  hasten 
back  to  settle  it.  To  send  for  them  was  the  only  thing 


296  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

Lyster  thought  of  doing,  for  he  himself  felt  powerless 
against  the  lot  of  men,  who  were  not  harsh  or  rude  in 
any  way,  but  who  simply  wanted  to  know  "why" — so 
many  "whys"  that  he  could  not  answer. 

Not  less  trying  to  him  were  the  several  who  per- 
sisted in  asserting  that  she  had  done  a  commendable 
thing — that  the  country  ought  to  feel  grateful  to  her, 
for  the  man  had  made  trouble  along  the  Columbia  for 
years.  He  and  his  confederates  had  done  ugly  work 
along  the  border,  etc.,  etc. 

"Sorry  you  asked  me,  Max?"  she  said,  seeing  his  face 
grow  gloomy  under  their  cheering  (?)  assertions. 

He  did  not  answer  at  once,  afraid  his  impatience  with 
her  might  make  itself  apparent  in  his  speech. 

"No,  I'm  not  sorry,"  he  said,  at  last;  "but  I  shall 
be  relieved  when  the  others  arrive  from  the  lake.  Since 
you  utterly  refuse  to  confide  even  in  me,  you  render  me 
useless  as  to  serving  you;  and — well — I  can't  feel  flat- 
tered that  you  confide  in  me  no  more  than  in  the  strangers 
here." 

"I  know,"  she  agreed,  with  a  little  sigh,  "it  is  hard  on 
you,  and  it  will  be  harder  still  if  the  story  of  this  should 
ever  creep  out  of  the  wilderness  to  the  country  where 
you  come  from — wouldn't  it?"  and  she  looked  at  him 
very  sharply,  noting  the  swift  color  flush  his  face,  as 
though  she  had  read  his  thoughts.  "Yes — so  it's  lucky, 
Max,  that  we  haven't  talked  to  others  about  that  little 
conditional  promise,  isn't  it?  So  it  will  be  easier  to  for- 
get, and  no  one  need  know." 

"You  mean  you  think  me  the  sort  of  fellow  to  break 
our  engagement  just  because  these  fools  have  mixed 
you  up  with  this  horror?"  he  asked,  angrily.  "You've 
no  right  to  think  that  of  me;  neither  have  you  the 


GOOD-BY  297 

right — in  justice  to  me  as  well  as  yourself — to  maintain 
this  very  suggestive  manner  about  all  things  connected 
with  the  murder.  Why  can  you  not  tell  more  clearly 
where  your  time  was  spent  last  evening?  Why  will 
you  not  tell  where  the  ring  came  from?  Why  will  you 
see  me  half-frantic  over  the  whole  miserable  affair,  when 
you  could,  I  am  sure,  easily  change  it?" 

"Oh,  Max,  I  don't  want  to  worry  you — indeed  I  don't ! 
But — "  and  she  smiled  mirthlessly.  "I  told  you  once  I 
was  a  'hoodoo.'  The  people  who  like  me  are  always 
sure  to  have  trouble  brewing  for  them.  That  is  why 
I  say  you  had  better  give  me  up,  Max;  for  this  is  only 
the  beginning." 

"Don't  talk  like  that;  it  is  folly,"  he  said,  in  a  sharp 
tone.  "  'Hoodoo !'  Nonsense !  When  Overton  and  the 
others  arrive,  they  will  find  a  means  of  changing  the 
ideas  of  these  people,  in  spite  of  your  reticence;  and 
then  maybe  old  Akkomi  may  find  words,  too.  He  sits 
outside  the  door  as  impassive  as  the  clay  image  you  gave 
me  and  bewitched  me  with." 

She  smiled  faintly,  thinking  of  those  days — how  very 
long  ago  they  seemed,  yet  it  was  this  same  summer. 

"I  feel  as  if  I  had  lived  a  long  time  since  I  played  with 
that  clay,"  she  said,  wistfully;  "so  many  things  have 
been  made  different  for  me." 

Then  she  arose  and  walked  about  the  little  room  rest- 
lessly, while  the  eyes  of  Harris  never  left  her.  Into  the 
other  room  she  had  not  gone  at  all,  for  in  it  was  the  dead 
stranger. 

"When  do  you  look  for  your  uncle  and  Mr.  Haydon?" 
she  asked,  at  last,  for  the  silences  were  hardest  to  en- 
dure. 


298  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

She  would  laugh,  or  argue,  or  ridicule — do  anything 
rather  than  sit  silent  with  questioning  eyes  upon  her. 
She  even  grew  to  fancy  that  Harris  must  accuse  her — 
he  watched  her  so ! 

"When  do  we  look  for  them?  Well,  I  don't  dare  let 
myself  decide.  I  only  hope  they  may  have  made  a  start 
back,  and  will  meet  the  captain  on  his  way.  As  to  Dan — 
he  had  not  so  very  much  the  start,  and  they  ought  to 
catch  up  with  him,  for  there  were  the  two  Indian  canoe- 
ists— the  two  best  ones;  and  when  they  are  racing  over 
the  water,  with  an  object,  they  surely  ought  to  make 
better  time  than  he.  I  can't  see  that  he  had  any  very 
pressing  reason  for  going  at  all." 

"He  doesn't  talk  much  about  his  reasons,"  she  an- 
swered. 

"No;  that's  a  fact,"  he  agreed,  "and  less  of  late  than 
when  I  knew  him  first.  But  he'll  make  Akkomi  talk, 
maybe,  when  he  arrives — and  I  hope  you,  too." 

"When  he  arrives !" 

She  thought  the  words,  but  did  not  say  them  aloud. 
She  sat  long  after  Max  had  left  her,  and  thought  how 
many  hours  must  elapse  before  they  discovered  that  Dan 
had  not  followed  the  other  men  to  the  lake  works.  She 
felt  sure  that  he  was  somewhere  in  the  wilderness,  avoid- 
ing the  known  paths,  alone,  and  perhaps  hating  her  as 
the  cause  of  his  isolation,  because  she  would  not  confess 
what  the  man  was  to  her,  but  left  him  blindly  to  keep 
his  threat,  and  kill  him  when  found  in  her  room. 

Ah!  why  not  have  trusted  him  with  the  whole  truth? 
She  asked  herself  the  question  as  she  sat  there,  but  the 
mere  thought  of  it  made  her  face  grow  hot,  and  her 
jaws  set  defiantly. 

She  would  not — she  could  not!  so  she  told  herself. 


GOOD-BY  299 

Better — better  far  be  suspected  of  a  murder — live  all 
her  life  under  the  blame  of  it  for  him — than  to  tell  him 
of  a  past  that  was  dead  to  her  now,  a  past  she  hated,  and 
from  which  she  had  determined  to  bar  herself  as  far  as 
silence  could  build  the  wall.  And  to  tell  him — him — she 
could  not. 

But  even  as  she  sat,  with  her  burning  face  in  her 
hands,  quick,  heavy  steps  came  to  the  door,  halted,  and 
looking  up  she  found  Dan  before  her. 

"Oh !  you  should  not,"  she  whispered,  hurriedly.  "Why 
did  you  come  back?  They  do  not  suspect;  they  think 
I  did  it — and  so — " 

"What  does  this  all  mean? — what  do*you  mean?"  he 
asked.  "Can't  you  speak?" 

It  seemed  she  could  not  find  any  more  words,  she 
stared  at  him  so  helplessly. 

"Max,  come  here!"  he  called,  to  hasten  steps  already, 
approaching.  "Come,  all  of  you;  I  had  only  a  moment 
to  listen  to  the  captain  when  he  caught  up  with  me.  But 
he  told  me  she  is  suspected  of  murder — that  a  ring  she 
wore  last  night  helped  the  suspicion  on.  I  didn't  wait 
to  hear  any  more,  for  I  gave  the  little  girl  that  snake 
ring — gave  it  to  her  weeks  ago.  I  bought  it  from  a 
miner,  and  he  told  me  he  got  it  from  an  Indian  near 
Karlo.  Now  are  you  ready  to  suspect  me,  too,  because 
I  had  it  first?" 

"The  ring  wasn't  just  the  most  important  bit  of  cir- 
cumstantial evidence,  Mr.  Overton,"  answered  the  man 
named  Saunders;  "and  we  are  all  mighty  glad  you've 
got  here.  It  was  in  her  room  the  man  was  found,  and 
a  knife  she  borrowed  from  you  was  what  killed  him; 
and  of  where  she  was  just  about  the  time  the  thing 
happened  she  won't  say  anything." 


300  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

His  face  paled  slightly  as  he  looked  at  her  and  heard 
the  brief  summing  up  of  the  case. 

"My  knife?"  he  said,  blankly. 

"Yes,  sir.  When  some  one  said  it  was  your  knife, 
she  spoke  up  and  said  it  was,  but  that  you  had  not  had 
it  since  noon,  for  she  borrowed  it  then  to  cut  a  stickj 
but  beyond  that  she  don't  tell  a  thing." 

"Who  is  the  man?" 

"The  renegade— Lee  Holly." 

"Lee  Holly !"  He  turned  a  piercing  glance  on  Harris, 
remembering  the  deep  interest  he  had  shown  in  that  man 
Lee  Holly  and  his  partner,  "Monte." 

Harris  met  his  gaze  without  flinching,  and  nodded 
his  head  as  if  in  assent. 

And  that  was  the  man  found  dead  in  her  room! 

The  faces  of  the  people  seemed  for  a  moment  an  indis- 
tinct blur  before  his  eyes;  then  he  rallied  and  turned 
to  her. 

"  'Tana,  you  never  did  it,"  he  said,  reassuringly ;  "or 
if  you  did,  it  has  been  justifiable,  and  I  know  it.  If  it 
was  necessary  to  do  it  in  any  self-defense,  don't  be 
afraid  to  tell  it  all  plainly.  No  one  would  blame  you. 
It  is  only  this  mystery  that  makes  them  want  to  hear  the 
truth." 

She  only  looked  at  him.  Was  he  acting?  Did  he  him- 
self know  nothing?  The  hope  that  it  was  so — that  she 
had  deceived  herself — made  her  tremble  as  she  had  not 
at  danger  to  herself.  She  had  risen  to  her  feet  as  he 
entered,  but  she  swayed  as  if  to  fall,  and  he  caught  her, 
not  knowing  it  was  hope  instead  of  despair  that  took  the 
color  from  her  face  and  left  her  helpless. 

"Courage,  Tana!    Tell  us  what  you  can.    I  left  you 


GOOD-BY  301 

just  as  the  moon  came  up.  I  saw  you  go  to  Mrs.  Huz- 
zard's  tent.  Now,  where  did  you  go  after  that?" 

"What?"  almost  shouted  Lyster.  "You  were  with 
her  when  the  moon  rose.  Are  you  sure  ?" 

"Sure?    Of  course  I  am.    Why?" 

"And  how  long  before  that,  Mr.  Overton?"  asked 
Saunders;  "for  that  is  a  very  important  point." 

"About  a  half-hour,  I  should  say — maybe  a  little 
more,"  he  answered,  staring  at  them.  "Now,  what  im- 
portant thing  does  that  prove?" 

One  of  the  men  gave  a  cheer;  three  or  four  had  come 
up  to  the  door  when  they  saw  Overton,  and  they  took 
the  yell  up  with  a  will.  Mrs.  Huzzard  started  to  run 
from  the  tent,  but  grew  so  nervous  that  she  had  to 
wait  until  Miss  Slocum  came  to  her  aid. 

"What  in  the  world  does  it  mean?"  she  gasped. 

Saunders  turned  around  with  an  honestly  pleased  look. 

"It  means  that  Mr.  Overton  here  has  brought  word 
that  clears  Miss  Rivers  of  being  at  the  cabin  when  the 
murder  was  done — that's  what  it  means;  and  we  are 
all  too  glad  over  it  to  keep  quiet.  But  why  in  the  world 
didn't  you  tell  us  that,  miss?" 

But  she  did  not  say  a  word.  All  about  Dan  were 
exclamations  and  disjointed  sentences,  from  which  he 
could  gain  little  actual  knowledge,  and  he  turned  to 
Lyster,  impatiently: 

"Can't  you  tell  me — can't  some  of  you  tell  me,  what 
I  have  cleared  up  for  her?  When  was  this  killing  sup- 
posed to  be  done?" 

"At  or  a  little  before  moonrise,"  said  Max,  his  face 
radiant  once  more.  "  'Tana — don't  you  know  what  he 
has  done  for  you?  taken  away  all  of  that  horribly  mis- 
20 


302  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

taken  suspicion  you  let  rest  on  you.  Where  was  she, 
Dan?" 

"Last  night?  Oh,  up  above  the  bluff  there — went  up 
when  the  pretty  red  lights  were  in  the  sky,  and  staid 
until  the  moon  rose.  I  came  across  her  up  there,  and 
advised  her  not  to  range  away  alone;  so,  when  she  got 
good  and  ready,  she  walked  back  again,  and  went  to  the 
tent  where  you  folks  were.  Then  I  struck  the  creek, 
decided  I  would  take  a  run  up  the  lake,  and  left  with- 
out seeing  any  of  you  again.  And  all  this  time  'Tana 
has  had  a  guard  over  her.  Some  of  you  must  have  been 
crazy." 

"Well,  then,  I  guess  I  was  the  worst  lunatic  of  the  lot," 
confessed  Saunders.  "But  to  tell  the  truth,  Mr.  Over- 
ton,  it  looks  to  me  now  as  if  she  encouraged  suspicion — 
yes,  it  does.  'Overton's  knife/  said  some  one ;  but,  quick 
as  could  be,  she  spoke  up  and  said  it  was  she  who  had 
it,  and  she  didn't  mind  just  where  she  left  it.  And  as  to 
where  she  was  at  that  time,  well,  she  just  wouldn't  give 
us  a  bit  of  satisfaction.  Blest  if  I  don't  think  she  wanted 
us  to  suspect  her." 

"Oh!"  he  breathed,  as  if  in  understanding,  and  her 
first  words  swept  back  to  him,  her  nervous — "Why  did 
you  come  back?  They  suspect  me!"  Surely  that  cry 
was  as  a  plea  for  his  own  safety;  it  spoke  through  eyes 
and  voice  as  well  as  words.  Some  glimmer  of  the 
truth  came  to  him. 

"Come,  'Tana!"  he  said,  and  reached  his  hand  to  her. 
''Where  is  the  man— Holly?  I  should  like  to  go  in.  Will 
you  come,  too?" 

She  rose  without  a  word,  and  no  one  attempted  to  fol- 
low them. 

Mrs.  Huzzard  heaved  a  prodigious  sigh  of  content. 


GOOD-BY  303 

"Oh,  that  girl  Montana!"  she  exclaimed.  "I  declare 
she  ain't  like  any  girl  I  ever  did  see!  This  morning, 
when  she  was  a  suspected  criminal,  she  was  talky,  and 
even  laughed,  and  now  that  she's  cleared,  she  won't  lift 
her  head  to  look  at  any  one.  I  do  wonder  if  that  sort  of 
queerness  is  catching  in  these  woods.  I  declare  I  feel 
most  scared  enough  to  leave." 

But  Lyster  reassured  her. 

"Remember  how  sick  she  has  been;  and  think  what  a 
shock  this  whole  affair  has  been  to  weak  nerves,"  he  said, 
for  with  Dan's  revelations  he  had  grown  blissfully  con- 
tent once  more,  "and  as  for  that  fellow  hearing  voices 
in  her  cabin — nonsense!  She  had  been  reading  some 
poem  or  play  aloud.  She  is  fond  of  reading  so,  and 
does  it  remarkably  well.  He  heard  her  spouting  in  there 
for  the  benefit  of  Harris,  and  imagined  she  was  making 
threats  to  some  one.  Poor  little  girl!  I'm  determined 
she  sha'n't  remain  here  any  longer." 

"Are  you?"  asked  Mrs.  Huzzard,  dryly.  "Well,  Mr. 
Max,  so  long  as  I've  known  her,  I've  always  found 
'Tana  makes  her  own  determinations — and  sticks  to  them, 
too." 

"I'm  glad  to  be  reminded  of  that,"  he  retorted,  "for 
she  promised  me  yesterday  to  marry  me  some  time." 

"Bless  my  soul !" 

"If  she  didn't  change  her  mind,"  he  added,  laughingly. 

"To  marry  you !  Well,  well,  well !"  and  she  stared  at 
him  so  queerly,  that  a  shade  of  irritation  crossed  his 
face. 

"Why  not?"  he  asked.  "Don't  you  think  that  a  plain, 
ordinary  man  is  good  enough  for  your  wild-flower  of 
the  Kootenai  hills?" 


304  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"Oh,  you're  not  plain  at  all,  Mr.  Max  Lyster,"  she 
returned,  "and  I'll  go  bail  many  a  woman- who  is  smarter 
than  either  Tana  or  me  has  let  you  know  it!  It  ain't 
the  plainness — it's  the  difference.  And — well,  well! 
you  know  you've  been  quarreling  ever  since  you  met." 

"But  that  is  all  over  now,"  he  promised ;  "and  haven't 
you  a  good  wish  for  us?" 

"Indeed  I  have,  then — a  many  of  them,  but  you  have 
surprised  me.  I  used  to  think  that's  how  it  would  end; 
and  then — well,  then,  a  different  notion  got  in  my  head. 
Now  that  it's  settled,  I  do  hope  you  will  be  happy.  Bless 
the  child!  I'll  go  and  tell  her  so  this  minute." 

"No,"  he  said,  quickly,  "let  her  and  Dan  have  their 
talk  out — if  she  will  talk  to  him.  That  fever  left  her 
queer  in  some  things,  and  one  of  them  is  her  avoidance 
of  Dan.  She  hasn't  been  free  and  friendly  with  him 
as  she  used  to  be,  and  it  is  too  bad ;  for  he  is  such  a  good 
fellow,  and  would  do  anything  for  her." 

"Yes,  he  would,"  assented  Mrs.  Huzzard. 

"And  she  will  be  her  own  spirited  self  in  a  few 
weeks — when  she  gets  away  from  here — and  gets 
stronger.  She'll  appreciate  Dan  more  after  a  while, 
for  there  are  few  like  him.  And  so — as  she  is  to  go 
away  so  soon,  I  hope  something  will  put  them  on  their 
former  confidential  footing.  Maybe  this  murder  will 
be  the  something." 

"You  are  a  good  friend,  Mr.  Max,"  said  the  woman, 
slowly,  "and  you  deserve  to  be  a  lucky  lover.  I'm  sure 
I  hope  so." 

Within  the  cabin,  those  two  of  whom  they  spoke  stood 
together  beside  the  dead  outlaw,  and  their  words  were 
low — so  low  that  the  paralyzed  man  in  the  next  room 
listened  in  vain. 


GOOD-BY  305 

"And  you  believed  that  of  me — of  me?"  he  asked, 
and  she  answered,  falteringly: 

"How  did  I  know?  You  said — you  threatened — you 
would  kill  him — any  man  you  found  in  here.  So,  when 
he  was  here  dead,  I — did  not  know." 

"And  you  thought  I  had  stuck  that  knife  in  him  and 
left?" 

She  nodded  her  head. 

"And  you  thought,"  he  continued,  in  a  voice  slightly 
tremulous,  "that  you  were  giving  me  a  chance  to  escape 
just  so  long  as  you  let  them  suspect — you?" 

She  did  not  answer,  but  turned  toward  the  door.  He 
held  his  arm  out  and  barred  her  way. 

"Only  a  moment !"  he  said,  pleadingly.  "It  never  can 
be  that — that  I  would  be  anything  to  you,  little  girl — 
never,  never!  But — just  once — let  me  tell  you  a  truth 
that  shall  never  hurt  you,  I  swear !  I  love  you !  No 
other  word  but  that  will  tell  your  dearness  to  me.  I — I 
never  would  have  said  it,  but — but  what  you  risked  for 
me  has  broken  me  down.  It  has  told  me  more  than  your 
words  would  tell  me,  and  I — Oh,  God!  my  God!" 

She  shrank  from  the  passion  in  his  words  and  tone, 
but  the  movement  only  made  him  catch  her  arm  and  hold 
her  there.  Tears  were  in  his  eyes  as  he  looked  at  her, 
and  his  jaws  were  set  firmly. 

"You  are  afraid  of  me — of  me?"  he  asked.  "Don't 
be.  Life  will  be  hard  enough  now  without  leaving  me 
that  to  remember.  I'm  not  asking  a  word  in  return 
from  you;  I  have  no  right.  You  will  be  happy  some- 
where else — and  with  some  one  else — and  that  is  right." 

He  still  held  her  wrist,  and  they  stood  in  silence.  She 
could  utter  no  word;  but  her  mouth  trembled  and  she 
tried  to  smother  a  sob  that  arose  in  her  throat. 


306  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

But  he  heard  it. 

"Don't!"  he  said,  almost  in  a  whisper — "for  God's 
sake,  don't  cry.  I  can't  stand  that — not  your  tears. 
Here!  be  brave!  Look  up  at  me,  won't  you?  See!  I 
don't  ask  you  for  a  word  or  a  kiss  or  a  thought  when 
you  leave  me — only  let  me  see  your  eyes!  Look  at 
me!" 

What  he  read  in  her  trembling  lips  and  her  shrink- 
ing, shamed  eyes  made  him  draw  his  breath  hard, 
through  his  shut  teeth. 

"My  brave  little  girl !"  he  said  softly.  "You  will  think 
harshly  of  me  for  this  some  day — if  you  ever  know — 
know  all.  But  what  you  did  this  morning  made  a  coward 
of  me — that  and  my  longing  for  you.  Try  to  forgive  me. 
Or,  no — you  had  better  not.  And  when  you  are  his  wife 
— Oh,  it's  no  use — I  can't  think  or  speak  of  that — yet. 
Good-by,  little  girl — good-by  1" 


LEAVING  CAMP  307 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

LEAVING    CAMP. 

Afterward,  'Tana  never  could  remember  clearly  the 
incidents  of  the  few  days  that  followed.  Only  once  more 
she  entered  the  cabin  of  death,  and  that  was  when  Mr. 
Haydon  and  Mr.  Seldon  returned  with  all  haste  to  the 
camp,  after  meeting  with  Captain  Leek  and  the  Indian 
boatman. 

Then,  as  some  of  the  men  offered  to  go  with  them 
to  view  the  remains  of  the  outlaw,  she  came  forward. 

"No.     I  will  take  them,"  she  said. 

When  Mr.  Haydon  demurred,  feeling  that  a  young 
girl  should  be  kept  as  much  as  possible  from  such 
scenes,  she  had  laid  her  hand  on  Seldon's  arm. 

"Come!"   she   said,   and  they  went  with  her. 

But  when  inside  the  door,  she  did  not  approach  the 
blanket-covered  form  stretched  on  the  couch;  only 
pointed  toward  it,  and  stood  herself  like  a  guard  at  the 
entrance. 

When  Seldon  lifted  the  Indian  blanket  from  the  face, 
he  uttered  a  startled  exlamation,  and  looked  strangely  at 
her.  She  never  turned  around. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Mr.  Haydon. 

No  one  replied,  and  as  he  looked  with  anxiety  toward 
the  form  there,  his  face  grew  ashen  in  its  horror. 

"Lord  in  heaven!"  he  gasped;  "first  her  on  that  bed 


308  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

and  now  him!  I — I  feel  as  if  I  was  haunted  in  this 
camp.  Seldon,  is  it — is  it — " 

"No  mistake  possible/'  answered  the  other  man,  de- 
cidedly. "I  could  swear  to  the  identity.  It  is  George 
Rankin  I" 

"And  Holly,  the  renegade!"  added  Haydon,  in  con- 
sternation; "and  Lord  only  knows  how  many  other 
aliases  he  has  worn.  Oh,  what  a  sensation  the  papers 
would  make  over  this  if  they  got  hold  of  it  all.  My! 
my !  it  would  be  awful !  And  that  girl,  Montana,  as  she 
calls  herself,  she  has  been  clever  to  keep  it  quiet  as  she 
has,  for— Oh,  Lord!" 

"What  is  the  matter  now  ?  You  look  fairly  sick,"  said 
the  other,  impatiently.  "I  didn't  fancy  you'd  grieve 
much  over  his  death." 

"No,  it  isn't  that/'  said  Haydon,  huskily.  "But  that 
girl — don't  you  see  she  was  accused  of  this?  And — well 
seeing  who  he  is,  how  do  we  know — " 

He  stopped  awkwardly,  unable  to  continue  with  the 
girl  herself  so  near  and  with  Seldon's  warning  glance 
directed  to  him. 

She  leaned  against  the  wall,  and  apparently  had  not 
heard  their  words.  Seldon's  face  softened  as  he  looked 
at  her;  and,  going  over,  he  put  his  hand  kindly  on  her 
hair. 

"I  am  going  to  be  your  uncle,  now,"  he  said  in  a  caress- 
ing tone.  "You  have  kept  up  like  a  soldier  under  some 
terrible  things  here;  but  we  will  try  to  make  things 
brighter  for  you  now." 

She  smiled  in  a  dreary  way  without  looking  at  him. 
His  knowledge  of  the  terrible  things  she  had  endured 
seemed  to  her  very  limited. 

"And  you  will  go  now  with  us — with  Mr.  Haydon — 


LEAVING  CAMP  309 

back  to  your  mother's  old  home,  won't  you?"  he  said, 
in  a  persuasive  way.  "It  is  not  good,  you  know,  for  a 
little  girl  not  to  know  any  of  her  relations,  or  to  bear 
such  shocking  grudges,"  he  added,  in  a  lower  tone. 

But  she  gave  him  no  answering  smile. 

"I  will  go  to  your  house  if  you  will  have  me,"  she 
said.  "You  and  Max  are  my  friends.  I  will  go  only 
with  people  I  like." 

"You  know,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Haydon,  who  heard 
her  last  words.  "You  know  I  offered  you  a  home  in 
my  house  until  such  time  as  you  got  to  school,  and — and 
of  course,  I'll  stick  to  it." 

"Though  you  are  a  little  afraid  to  risk  it,  aren't  you?" 
she  asked,  with  an  unpleasant  smile.  "Haven't  you  an 
idea  that  I  might  murder  you  all  in  your  beds  some  fine 
night?  You  know  I  belong  to  a  country  where  they  do 
such  things  for  pastime.  Aren't  you  afraid  ?" 

"That  is  a  very  horrible  sort  of  pleasantry,"  he  an- 
swered, and  moved  away  from  the  dead  face  he  had  been 
staring  at.  "I  beg  you  will  not  indulge  in  it,  especially 
when  you  move  in  a  society  more  refined  than  these 
mining  camps  can  afford.  It  will  be  a  disadvantage  to 
you  if  you  carry  with  you  customs  and  memories  of  this 
unfinished  section.  And  after  all,  you  do  not  belong 
here,  your  family  was  of  the  East.  When  you  go  back 
there,  it  would  be  policy  for  you  to  forget  that  you  had 
ever  lived  anywhere  else." 

Mr.  Haydon  had  never  made  so  long  a  speech  to  her 
before,  and  it  was  delivered  with  a  certain  persistence, 
as  if  it  was  a  matter  of  conscience  he  would  be  relieved 
to  have  off  his  mind. 

"I  think  you  are  mistaken  when  you  say  I  do  not 
belong  here,"  she  answered,  coolly.  "Some  of  my  family 


310  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

have  been  a  good  many  things  I  don't  intend  to  be.  I 
was  born  in  Montana;  and  I  might  have  starved  to 
death  for  any  help  my  'family'  would  have  given  me,  if 
I  hadn't  struck  luck  and  helped  myself  here  in  Idaho. 
So  I  think  I  belong  out  here,  and  if  I  live,  I  will  come 
back  again — some  day." 

She  turned  to  Seldon  and  pointed  to  the  dead  form. 

"They  will  take  him  away  to-day — I  heard  them  say 
so,"  she  said  quietly.  "Let  it  be  somewhere  away  from 
the  camp — not  near — not  where  I  can  see." 

"Can't  you  forget — even  now,  'Tana?" 

"Does  anybody  ever  forget?"  she  asked.  "When  peo- 
ple say  they  can  forget  and  forgive,  I  don't  trust  them, 
for  I  don't  believe  them." 

"Have  you  any  idea  who  killed  him?"  he  asked.  "It 
is  certainly  a  strange  affair.  I  thought  you  might  sus- 
pect some  one  these  people  know  nothing  of." 

But  she  shook  her  head.  "No,"  she  said.  "There  were 
several  who  would  have  liked  to  do  it,  I  suppose — people 
he  had  wronged  or  ruined ;  for  he  had  few  friends  left,  or 
he  would  not  have  come  across  to  these  poor  reds  to 
hide.  Give  old  Akkomi  part  of  that  gold;  he  was  faith- 
ful to  me — and  to  him,  too.  No,  I  don't  know  who  did 
it.  I  don't  care,  now.  I  thought  I  knew  once;  but  I 
was  wrong.  This  way  of  dying  is  better  than  the  rope ; 
and  that  is  what  the  law  would  have  given  him.  He 
would  have  chosen  this — I  know." 

"Did  you  ever  in  your  life  hear  such  cold-blooded 
words  from  a  girl?"  demanded  Haydon,  when  she  left 
them  and  went  to  Harris.  "Afraid  of  her?  Humph! 
Well,  some  people  would  be.  No  wonder  they  suspected 
her  when  she  showed  such  indifference.  Every  word 
she  says  makes  me  regret  more  and  more  that  I  acknowl- 


LEAVING  CAMP  311 

edged  her.  But  how  was  I  to  know?  She  was  ill,  and 
made  me  feel  as  if  a  ghost  had  come  before  me.  I 
couldn't  sleep  till  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  take  the 
risk  of  her.  Max  sung  her  praises  as  if  she  was  some 
rare  untrained  genius.  Nothing  gave  me  an  idea  that 
she  would  turn  out  this  way." 

"'This  way'  has  not  damaged  you  much  so  far,"  re- 
marked Mr.  Seldon,  dryly.  "And  as  she  is  not  likely 
to  be  much  of  a  charge  on  your  hands,  you  had  better 
not  borrow  trouble  on  that  score." 

"All  very  well — all  very  well  for  you  to  be  indifferent/' 
returned  Mr.  Haydon,  with  some  impatience.  "You  have 
no  family  to  consider,  no  matter  what  wild  escapade  she 
would  be  guilty  of,  you  would  not  be  touched  by  the 
disgrace  of  it,  because  she  doesn't  belong  in  any  way  to 
your  family." 

"Maybe  she  will,  though,"  suggested  Seldon. 

Mr.   Haydon  shrugged  his  shoulders  significantly. 

"You  mean  through  Max,  don't  you?"  he  asked. 
"Yes,  I  was  simple  enough  to  build  on  that  myself — • 
thought  what  a  nice,  quiet  way  it  would  be  of  arranging 
the  whole  affair ;  but  after  a  talk  with  this  ranger,  Over- 
ton,  whom  you  and  Max  unite  in  admiring,  I  concluded 
he  might  be  in  the  way." 

"Overton?     Nonsense!" 

"Well,  maybe;  but  he  made  himself  very  autocratic 
when  I  attempted  to  discuss  her  future.  He  seemed 
to  show  a  good  deal  of  authority  concerning  her  affairs." 

"Not  a  bit  more  than  he  does  over  the  affairs  of  their 
paralyzed  partner  in  there,"  answered  Seldon.  "If  she 
always  makes  as  square  friends  as  Dan  Overton,  I  sha'n't 
quarrel  with  her  judgment." 


312  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

When  'Tana  left  them  and  went  into  the  other  cabin, 
she  stood  looking  at  Harris  a  long  time  in  a  curious, 
scrutinizing  way,  and  his  face  changed  from  doubt  to 
dread  before  she  spoke. 

"I  am  hardly  able  to  think  any  more,  Joe,"  she  said 
at  last,  and  her  tired  eyes  accented  the  truth  of  her 
words;  "but  something  like  a  thought  keeps  hammering 
in  my  head  about  you — about  you  and — "  She  pointed 
to  the  next  room.  "If  you  could  walk,  I  should  know 
you  did  it.  If  you  could  talk,  I  should  know  you  had 
it  done.  I  wouldn't  tell  on  you;  but  I'd  be  ^lad  I  was 
going  where  I  would  not  see  you,  for  I  never  could 
touch  your  hand  again.  I  am  going  away,  Joe;  won't 
you  tell  me  true  whether  you  know  who  did  it?  Do 
you?" 

He  shook  his  head  with  his  eyes  closed.  He,  too, 
looked  pale  and  worn,  and  noticing  it,  she  asked  if  he 
would  not  rather  move  to  some  other  dwelling,  since — 

He  nodded  his  head  with  a  sort  of  eagerness.  All  of 
the  two  days  and  the  night  he  had  sat  there,  with  only 
the  folds  of  a  blanket  to  separate  him  from  the  room 
where  his  dead  foe  lay. 

"I  will  speak  to  them  about  it  right  away."  She  lifted 
his  hand  and  stroked  it  with  a  sort  of  sympathy.  "Joe, 
can  you  forgive  him  now?"  she  whispered. 

He  made  her  no  reply;  only  closed  his  eyes  as  before. 

"You  can't,  then?  and  I  can't  ask  you  to,  though  I 
suppose  I  ought  to.  Margaret  would,"  and  she  smiled 
strangely.  "You  don't  know  Margaret,  do  you?  Well, 
neither  do  I.  But  I  guess  she  is  the  sort  of  girl  I  ought 
to  be.  Joe,  I  can't  stay  in  camp  any  longer.  Maybe  I'll 
leave  for  the  Ferry  to-day.  Will  you  miss  me?  Yes,  I 


LEAVING  CAMP  313 

know  you  will,"  she  added,  "and  I  will  miss  you,  too. 

Do  you  know — can  you  tell  when  Dan  will  come  back?" 

He  shook  his  head,  and  an  hour  later  she  said  to  Max : 

"Take  me  away  from  here,  back  to  the  Ferry — any 

place.     Mrs.  Huzzard  will,  maybe,  come  for  a  few  days 

— or  Miss  Slocum.    Ask  them,  and  let  me  go  soon." 

And  an  hour  after  they  had  started,  another  canoe 
went  slowly  over  the  water  toward  the  Kootenai  River, 
.a  canoe  guided  by  Akkomi ;  and  in  it  lay  the  blanket- 
draped  figure  of  the  man  whose  death  was  yet  a  mystery 
to  the  camp.  He  was  at  least  borne  to  his  resting  place 
by  a  friend,  though  what  the  reason  for  Akkomi's  faith- 
fulness, no  one  ever  knew;  for  some  favor  in  the  past, 
no  doubt.  Seldon  knew  that  'Tana  wou.d  rather  Ak- 
komi should  be  the  one  to  cover  his  grave  r  though  where 
it  was  made,  no  white  man  ever  knew. 


314  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

ON   MANHATTAN   ISLAND. 

"What  do  you  intend  to  make  of  your  life,  Montana, 
since  you  avoid  all  questions  of  marriage?  You  will  not 
go  to  school,  and  care  nothing  about  fitting  yourself 
for  the  society  where  by  right  you  should  belong." 

A  whole  winter  had  gone,  and  the  springtime  had 
come  again;  and  over  all  the  Island  of  Manhattan, 
and  on  the  heights  back  from  the  rivers,  the  green  of 
the  leaves  was  creeping  over  the  boughs  from  which 
winter  had  swept  all  signs  of  life  months  ago. 

In  a  very  lovely  little  room,  facing  a  park  where  the 
glitter  of  a  tiny  lake  could  be  seen,  'Tana  lounged  and 
stared  at  the  waving  branches  and  the  fettered  water. 

Not  just  the  same  'Tana  as  when,  a  year  ago,  she 
had  breasted  the  cold  waves  of  the  Kootenai.  No  one, 
to  look  at  her  now,  would  connect  the  taller,  stylishly 
dressed  figure,  with  that  little  half-savage  who  had 
scowled  at  Overton  in  the  lodge  of  Akkomi.  Her  hair 
was  no  longer  short  and  boyish  in  its  arrangement.  A 
silver  comb  held  it  in  place,  except  where  the  tiny  curls 
crept  down  to  cluster  about  her  neck.  A  gown  of  soft 
white  wool  was  caught  at  her  waist  by  a  flat  woven  belt 
of  silver,  and  an  embroidered  shoe  of  silvery  gleam 
peeped  from  under  the  white  folds. 

No,  it  was  not  the  same  Tana.  And  the  little  gray- 
haired  lady,  who  slipped  ivory  knitting  needles  in  and 


ON  MANHATTAN  ISLAND  315 

out  of  silky  flosses,  watched  her  with  troubled  concern 
as  she  asked : 

"And  what  do  you  intend  to  make  of  your  life,  Mon- 
tana?" 

"You  are  out  of  patience  with  me,  are  you  not,  Miss 
Seldon?"  asked  the  girl.  "Oh,  yes,  I  know  you  are;  and 
I  don't  blame  you.  Everything  I  have  ever  wanted  in 
my  life  is  in  reach  of  me  here — everything  a  girl  should 
have;  yet  it  doesn't  mean  so  much  to  me  as  I  thought  it 
would." 

"But  if  you  would  go  to  school,  perhaps — " 

"Perhaps  I  would  learn  to  appreciate  all  this,"  and 
the  girl  glanced  around  at  the  fine  fittings  of  the  room, 
and  then  back  to  the  point  of  her  own  slipper. 

"But  I  do  study  hard  at  home.  Doesn't  Miss  Acker- 
man  give  me  credit  for  learning  very  quickly  ?  and  doesn't 
that  music  teacher  hop  around  and  wave  his  hands  over 
my  most  excellent,  ringing  voice?  They  say  I  study 
well." 

"Yes,  yes;  you  do,  too.  But  at  a  school,  my  dear, 
where  you  would  have  the  association  of  other  girls, 
you  would  naturally  grow  more — more  girlish  yourself, 
if  I  may  say  so;  for  you  are  old  beyond  your  years  in 
ways  that  are  peculiar.  Your  ideas  of  things  are  not 
the  ideas  of  girlhood ;  and  yet  you  are  very  fond  of  girls." 

"And  how  do  you  know  that?"  asked  'Tana. 

"Why,  my  dear,  you  never  go  past  one  on  the  street 
that  you  don't  give  her  more  notice  than  the  very  hand- 
somest man  you  might  see.  And  at  the  matinees,  if  the 
play  does  not  hold  you  very  close,  your  eyes  are  always 
directed  to  the  young  girls  in  the  audience.  Yes,  you  are 
fond  of  them,  yet  you  will  not  allow  yourself  to  be  in- 
timate with  any." 


316  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

And  the  pretty,  refined-looking  lady  smiled  at  her 
and  nodded  her  head  in  a  knowing  way,  as  though  she 
had  made  an  important  discovery. 

The  girl  on  the  couch  lay  silent  for  a  while,  then  she 
rose  and  went  over  to  the  window,  gazing  across  to  the 
park,  where  people  were  walking  and  riding  along  the 
green  knolls  and  levels.  Young  girls  were  there,  too, 
and  she  watched  them  a  little  while,  with  the  old  moody 
expression  in  her  dark  eyes. 

"Perhaps  it  is  because  I  don't  like  to  make  friends 
under  false  pretenses/'  she  said,  at  last.  "Your  society 
is  a  very  fine  and  very  curious  thing,  and  there  is  a 
great  deal  of  false  pretense  about  it.  Individually,  they 
would  overlook  the  fact  that  I  was  accused  of  murder  in 
Idaho — the  gold  mine  would  help  some  of  them  to  do 
that!  But  if  it  should  ever  get  in  their  papers  here, 
they  would  collectively  think  it  their  duty  to  each  other 
not  to  recognize  me." 

"Oh,  Montana,  my  dear  child,  why  do  you  not  forget 
that  horrible  life,  and  leave  your  mind  free  to  partake 
of  the  advantages  now  surrounding  you?"  and  Miss 
Seldon  sighed  with  real  distress,  and  dropped  her  ivory 
needles  despairingly.  "It  seems  so  strange  that  you  care 
to  remember  that  which  was  surely  a  terrible  life." 

"Much  more  so  than  you  can  know,"  answered  the 
girl,  coming  over  to  her  and  drawing  a  velvet  hassock 
to  her  side.  "And,  my  dear,  good,  innocent  little  lady, 
just  so  long  as  you  all  try  to  persuade  me  that  I  should 
go  out  among  young  people  of  my  own  age,  just  so  long 
must  I  be  forced  to  think  of  how  different  my  life  has 
been  to  theirs.  Some  day  they,  too,  might  learn  how 
different  it  has  been,  and  resent  my  presence  among  them. 
I  prefer  not  to  run  that  risk.  I  might  get  to  like  some 


ON  MANHATTAN  ISLAND  317 

of  them,  and  then  it  would  hurt.  Besides,  the  more  I 
see  of  people  since  I  came  here,  the  more  I  feel  that 
every  one  should  remain  with  their  own  class  in  life." 

"But,  Montana,  that  is  not  an  American  sentiment 
at  all !"  said  Miss  Seldon,  with  some  surprise.  "But 
even  that  idea  should  not  exclude  from  refined  circles. 
By  birth  you  are  a  lady." 

The  girl  smiled  bitterly.  "You  mean  my  mother  was," 
she  answered.  "But  she  did  not  give  me  a  gentleman  for 
a  father ;  and  I  don't  believe  the  parents  of  any  of  those 
lovely  girls  we  meet  would  like  them  to  know  the 
daughter  of  such  a  man,  if  they  knew  it.  Now,  do  you 
understand  how  I  feel  about  myself  and  this  social  ques- 
tion?" 

"You  are  foolishly  conscientious  and  morbid,"  ex- 
claimed the  older  lady.  "I  declare,  Montana,  I  don't 
know  what  to  do  with  you.  People  like  you — you  are 
very  clever,  you  have  youth,  wealth,  and  beauty — yes, 
the  last,  too !  yet  you  shut  yourself  up  here  like  a  young 
nun.  Only  the  theaters  and  the  art  galleries  will  you 
visit — never  a  person — not  even  Margaret." 

"Not  even  Margaret,"  repeated  the  girl;  "and  that  is 
the  crowning  sin  in  your  eyes,  isn't  it?  Well,  I  don't 
blame  you,  for  she  is  very  lovely;  and  how  much  she 
thinks  of  you !" 

"Yes!"  sighed  the  little  lady.  "Mrs.  Haydon  is  a 
woman  of  very  decided  character,  but  not  at  all  given 
to  loving  demonstrations  to  children.  Long  ago,  when 
we  lived  closer,  little  Margie  would  come  to  me  daily 
to  be  kissed  and  petted.  Max  was  only  a  boy  then,  and 
they  were  great  companions." 

"Yes;  and  if  he  had  been  sensible,  he  would  have 
fallen  in  love  with  her  and  made  her  Mrs.  Lyster,  in- 
21 


318  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

stead  of  knocking  around  Western  mining  towns,  and 
making  queer  friends,"  said  the  girl,  smiling  at  the  old 
lady's  astonished  face.  "She  is  just  the  sort  of  girl  to 
suit  him." 

"My  dear,"  she  said,  solemnly,  "do  you  really  care  for 
him  a  particle?" 

"Who — Max?  Of  course  I  do.  He  is  the  best  fel- 
low I  know,  and  was  so  good  to  me  out  there  in  the 
wilderness.  There  was  no  one  out  there  to  compare  me 
with,  so  I  suppose  I  loomed  up  big  when  compared  with 
the  average  squaw.  But  everything  is  different  here. 
I  did  not  know  how  different.  I  know  now,  however, 
and  I  won't  let  him  go  on  making  a  mistake." 

"Oh,  Montana!"  cried  the  little  lady,  pleadingly. 

Just  then  a  maid  entered  with  two  cards,  at  which  she 
glanced  with  a  dismay  that  was  comical. 

"Margaret  and  Max!  Why,  is  it  not  strange  they 
should  call  at  the  same  time,  and  at  a  time  when — " 

"When  I  was  pairing  them  off  so  nicely,  without  their 
knowledge,"  added  the  girl.  "Have  them  come  up  here, 
won't  you?  It  is  so  much  more  cozy  than  that  very  ele- 
gant parlor.  And  I  always  feel  as  if  poor  Max  had 
been  turned  out  of  his  home  since  I  came." 

So  they  came  to  the  little  sitting  room — pretty,  dark- 
eyed  Margaret,  with  her  faultless  manners  and  her  real 
fondness  for  Miss  Seldon,  whom  she  kissed  three  times. 

"For  I  have  not  seen  you  for  three  days,"  she  ex- 
plained, "and  those  two  are  back  numbers."  Then  she 
turned  to  'Tana  and  eyed  her  admiringly  as  they  clasped 
hands. 

"You  look  as  though  you  had  stepped  from  a  picture 
of  classic  Greek,"  she  declared.  "Where  in  that  pretty 
curly  head  of  yours  do  you  find  the  ideas  for  those 


ON  MANHATTAN  ISLAND  319 

artistic  arrangements  of  form  and  color?  You  are  an 
artist,  Montana,  and  you  don't  know  it." 

"I  will  begin  to  believe  i^  if  people  keep  telling  me  so." 

"Who  else  has  told  you?"  asked  Lyster,  and  she 
laughed  at  him. 

"Not  you,"  she  replied;  "at  least  not  since  you  teased 
me  about  the  clay  Indians  I  made  on  the  shores  of  the 
Kootenai.  But  some  one  else  has  told  me — Mr.  Roden." 

"Roden,  the  sculptor!    But  how  does  he  know?" 

She  glanced  from  one  face  to  the  other,  and  sighed 
with  a  serio-comic  expression.  "I  might  as  well  con- 
fess," she  said,  at  last.  "I  am  so  glad  you  are  here,  Miss 
Margaret,  for  I  may  need  an  advocate.  I  have  been 
working  two  hours  a  day  in  Mr.  Roden's  studio  for  over 
a  month." 

"Montana !"  gasped  Miss  Seldon,  "but — how — when  ?" 

"Before  you  were  awake  in  the  morning,"  she  said, 
and  looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  their  blank  faces. 
"You  look  as  if  it  were  a  shock,  instead  of  a  surprise," 
she  added.  "I  did  not  tell  you  at  first,  as  it  would  seem 
only  a  whim.  But  he  has  told  me  I  have  reason  for  the 
whim,  and  that  I  should  continue.  So — I  think  I  shall." 

"But,  my  child — for  you  are  a  child,  after  all — don't 
you  know  it  is  a  very  strange  thing  for  a  girl  to  go 
alone  like  that,  and — and — Oh,  dear!  Max,  can't  you 
tell  her?" 

But  Max  did  not.  There  was  a  slight  wrinkle  between 
his  brows,  but  she  saw  it  and  smiled. 

"You  can't  scold  me,  though,  can  you?"  she  asked. 
"That  is  right,  for  it  would  be  no  use.  I  know  you  would 
say  that  in  your  set  it  would  not  be  proper  for  a  girl  to 
do  such  independent  things.  But  you  see,  I  do  not  be- 
long to  any  set.  I  have  just  been  telling  this  dear  little 


320  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

lady,  who  is  trying  to  look  stern,  some  of  the  reasons 
why  society  life  and  I  can  never  agree.  But  I  have 
found  several  reasons  why  Art  life  and  I  should  agree 
perfectly.  I  like  the  freedom  of  it — the  study  of  it. 
And,  even  if  I  never  accomplish  much,  I  shall  at  least 
have  tried  my  best." 

"But,  Montana,  it  is  not  as  though  you  had  to  learn 
such  things,"  pleaded  Miss  Seldon.  "You  have  plenty 
of  money." 

"Oh,  money — money!  But  I  have  found  there  are  a 
few  things  in  this  world  money  can  not  buy.  Art  study, 
little  as  I  have  attempted,  has  taught  me  that." 

Lyster  came  over  and  sat  beside  her  by  the  window. 

"  Tana,"  he  said,  and  looked  at  her  with  kindly 
directness,  "can  the  Art  study  give  you  that  which  you 
crave,  and  which  money  can  not  buy?" 

Her  eyes  fell  to  the  floor.  She  could  not  but  feel 
sorry  to  go  against  his  wishes ;  and  yet — 

"No,  it  can  not,  entirely,"  she  said,  at  last.  "But  it 
is  all  the  substitute  I  know  of,  and,  maybe,  after  a 
while,  it  will  satisfy  me." 

Miss  Seldon  took  Margaret  from  the  room  on  some 
pretext,  and  Lyster  rose  and  walked  across  to  the  other 
window.  He  was  evidently  much  troubled  or  annoyed. 

"Then  you  are  not  satisfied?"  he  asked.  "The  life  that 
seemed  possible  to  you,  when  out  there  in  camp,  is  im- 
possible to  you  now." 

"Oh,  Max!  don't  be  angry — don't.  Everything  was 
all  wrong  out  there.  You  were  sorry  for  me  out  there ; 
you  thought  me  different  from  what  I  am.  I  could 
never  be  the  sort  of  girl  you  should  marry — not  like 
Margaret—" 


ON  MANHATTAN  ISLAND  321 

"Margaret!"  and  his  face  paled  a  little,  "why  do  you 
speak  of  her?" 

"I  know,  if  you  do  not,  Max,"  she  answered,  and 
smiled  at  him.  "I  have  learned  several  things  since  I 
came  here,  and  one  of  them  is  Mr.  Haydon's  reason  for 
encouraging  our  friendship  so  much.  It  was  to  end  any 
attachment  between  you  and  Margaret.  Oh,  I  know, 
Max!  If  I  had  not  looked  just  a  little  bit  like  her,  you 
would  never  have  fancied  you  loved  me — for  it  was  only 
a  fancy." 

"It  was  no  fancy !  I  did  love  you.  I  was  honest  with 
you,  and  I  have  waited  patiently,  while  you  have  grown 
more  and  more  distant  until  now — " 

"Now  we  had  better  end  it  all,  Max.  I  could  not  make 
you  happy,  for  I  am  not  happy  myself." 

"Perhaps  I—" 

"No,  you  can  not  help  me;  and  it  is  not  your  fault. 
You  have  been  good  to  me — very  good;  but  I  can't 
marry  any  one." 

"No  one?"  he  asked,  looking  at  her  doubtfully. 
1  Tana,  sometimes  I  have  fancied  you  might  have  cared 
for  some  one  else — some  one  before  you  met  me." 

"No,  I  cared  for  no  one  before  I  met  you,"  she 
answered,  slowly.  "But  I  could  not  be  happy  in  the 
social  life  of  your  people  here.  They  are  charming,  but 
I  am  not  suited  to  their  life.  And — and  I  can't  go  back 
to  the  hills.  So,  in  a  month,  I  am  going  to  Italy." 

"You  have  it  all  decided,  then?" 

"All — don't  be  angry,  Max.  You  will  thank  me  for  it 
some  day,  though  I  know  our  friends  will  think  badly 
of  me  just  now." 

"No,  they  shall  not;  you  are  breaking  no  promises. 
You  took  me  only  on  trial,  and  it  seems  I  don't  suit," 


322  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

he  said,  with  a  grimace.  "I  will  see  that  you  are  not 
blamed.  And  so  long  as  you  do  not  leave  America,  I 
should  like  you  to  remain  here.  Don't  let  anything  be 
changed  in  our  friendship,  'Tana." 

She  turned  to  him  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  held  out 
her  hand. 

"You  are  too  good  to  me,  Max,"  she  said,  brokenly. 
"God  knows  what  will  become  of  me  when  I  leave  you 
all  and  go  among  foreign  faces,  among  whom  I  shall  not 
have  a  friend.  I  hope  to  work  and — be  contented;  but 
I  shall  never  meet  a  friend  like  you  again." 

He  drew  her  to  him  quickly. 

"Don't  go!"  he  whispered,  pleadingly.  "I  can't  let 
you  go  out  into  the  world  alone  like  that!  I  will  love 
you — care  for  you — " 

"Hush!"  and  she  put  her  hand  on  his  face  to  push  it 
away;  "it  is  no  use,  arid  don't  do  that — try  to  kiss  me; 
you  must  not.  No  man  has  ever  kissed  me,  and  you — " 

"And  I  sha'n't  be  the  first,"  he  added,  shrugging  his 
shoulders.  "Well,  I  confess  I  hoped  to  be,  and  you  are 
a  greater  temptation  than  you  know,  Miss  Montana. 
And  you  ought  to  pardon  me  the  attempt." 

Her  face  was  flushed  and  shamed.  "I  could  pardon 
a  great  deal  in  you,  Max,"  she  answered;  "but  don't 
speak  of  it  again.  Talk  to  me  of  other  things." 

"Other  things?  Well,  I  haven't  many  other  things  in 
my  mind  just  now.  Still,  I  did  see  some  one  down  town 
this  morning  whom  you  rather  liked,  and  who  asked 
after  you.  It  was  Mr.  Harvey,  the  writer,  whom  we 
met  first  at  Bonner's  Ferry,  up  in  the  Kootenai  land. 
Do  you  remember  him?" 

"Certainly.  We  met  him  afterward  at  one  of  the  art 
galleries,  and  I  have  seen  him  several  times  at  Roden's 


ON  MANHATTAN  ISLAND  323 

studio.  They  are  great  friends.  He  looked  surprised 
to  find  me  there,  but,  after  I  spoke  to  him,  he  talked  to 
me  a  great  deal.  You  know,  Max,  I  always  imagine  he 
heard  that  suspicion  of  me  up  at  the  camp.  Do  you  think 
so?" 

"He  never  intimated  it  to  me,"  answered  Max ;  "though 
Haydon  nearly  went  into  spasms  of  fear  lest  he  would 
put  it  all  in  some  paper." 

"I  remember.  He  would  scarcely  allow  me  breathing 
space  for  fear  the  stranger  would  get  near  enough  to 
speak  to  me  again.  I  remember  all  that  journey,  be- 
cause when  I  reached  the  end  of  it,  the  past  seemed  like 
a  troubled  dream,  for  this  life  of  fineness  and  beauty 
and  leisure  was  all  so  different." 

"And  yet  you  are  not  contented?" 

"Oh,  don't  talk  of  that— of  me !"  she  begged.  "I  am 
tired  of  myself.  I  just  remembered  another  one  on  the 
train  that  journey — the  little  variety  actress  who  had  her 
dresses  made  to  look  cute  and  babyish — the  one  with 
bleached  hair,  and  they  called  her  Goldie.  She  looked 
scared  to  death  when  he — Overton — stopped  at  the  win- 
dow to  say  good-by.  I  often  wondered  why." 

"Oh,  you  know  Dan  was  a  sort  of  sheriff,  or  law- 
and-order  man,  up  there.  He  might  have  known  her 
unfavorably,  and  she  was  afraid  of  being  identified  by 
him,  or  something  of  that  sort.  She  belonged  to  the 
rougher  element,  no  doubt." 

"Max,  it  makes  me  homesick  to  think  of  that  country," 
she  confessed.  "Ever  since  the  grass  has  commenced 
to  be  green,  and  the  buds  to  swell,  it  seems  to  me  all  the 
woods  are  calling  me.  All  the  sluggish  water  I  see 
here  in  the  parks  and  the  rivers  makes  me  dream  of 
the  rush  of  the  clear  Kootenai,  and  long  for  a  canoe  and 


32-4  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

paddle.  Contrive  something  to  make  me  forget  it,  won't 
you?  Make  up  a  party  to  go  somewhere — anywhere. 
I  will  be  caval'er  to  your  lovely  little  aunt,  and  leave  you 
to  Margaret." 

"I  asked  you  before  why  you  speak  of  Margaret  and 
me  in  that  tone?"  he  said.  "Are  you  going  to  tell  me? 
You  have  no  reason  but  your  own  fancy." 

"Haven't  I?  Well,  this  isn't  fancy,  Max— that  I 
would  like  to  see  my  cousin — you  see,  I  claim  them  for 
this  once — happy  in  her  own  way,  instead  of  unhappy 
in  the  life  her  ambitious  family  are  trying  to  arrange  for 
her.  And  I  promise  to  trade  some  surplus  dust  for  a 
wedding  present  just  as  soon  as  you  conclude  to  spoil 
their  plans,  and  make  yourself  and  that  little  girl  and 
your  aunt  all  happy  by  a  few  easily  spoken  words." 

"But  I  have  just  told  you  I  love  you." 

"You  will  know  better  some  day,"  she  said,  and  turned 
away.  "Now  go  and  pacify  your  aunt,  won't  you?  She 
seemed  so  troubled  about  the  modeling — bless  her  dear 
heart!  I  didn't  want  to  trouble  her,  but  the  work — • 
some  work — was  a  necessity  to  me.  I  was  growing  so 
homesick  for  the  woods." 

After  she  was  left  alone,  she  drew  a  letter  from  her 
pocket,  one  she  had  got  in  the  morning  mail,  and  read 
over  again  the  irregular  lines  sent  by  Mrs.  Huzzard. 

"I  got  Lavina  to  write  you  the  letter  at  Christmas, 
because  I  was  so  tickled  with  all  the  things  you  sent  me 
that  I  couldn't  write  a  straight  line  to  save  me;  and  you 
know  the  rheumatiz  in  my  ringer  makes  it  hard  work 
for  me  sometimes.  But  maybe  hard  work  and  me  is 
about  done  with  each  other,  'Tana;  though  I'll  tell  you 
more  of  that  next  time. 

"I  must  tell  you  Mr.  Harris  has  got  better — can  talk 
some  and  walk  around;  can't  move  his  left  arm  any 


ON  MANHATTAN  ISLAND  325 

yet.  But  Mr.  Dan  sent  for  two  fine  doctors,  and  they 
tried  to  help  him  with  electricity.  And  I  was  scared  for 
fear  lightning  might  strike  camp  after  that ;  but  it  didn't. 
Lavina  is  here  still,  and  likely  to  stay.  She's  a  heap  of 
company;  and  she  and  Captain  Leek  are  better  friends 
than  they  was. 

"There  is  a  new  man  in  camp  now;  he  found  a  silver 
mine  down  near  Bonner's  Ferry,  and  sold  it  out  well. 
He  was  a  farmer  back  in  Indiana,  and  has  been  on  a 
visit  to  our  camp  twice.  Mr.  Dan  says  it's  my  cooking 
fetches  him.  Everything  is  different  here  now.  Mr. 
Dan  got  sawed  lumber,  and  put  me  up  a  nice  little  house ; 
and  up  above  the  bluff  he  has  laid  out  a  place  where  he 
is  going  to  build  a  stone  house,  just  as  if  he  intends  to 
live  and  die  here.  He  doesn't  ever  seem  to  think  that 
he  has  enough  made  now  to  rest  all  his  days.  Some- 
times I  think  he  ain't  well.  Sometimes,  'Tana,  I  think  it 
would  cheer  him  up  if  you  would  just  write  him  a  few 
lines  from  time  to  time.  He  always  says,  'Is  she  well?' 
when  I  get  a  letter  from  you;  and  about  the  time  I'm 
looking  for  your  letters  he's  mighty  regular  about  get- 
ting the  mail  here. 

"That  old  Akkomi  went  south  when  winter  set  in,  and 
we  reckon  he'll  be  back  when  the  leaves  get  green.  His 
whole  village  was  drunk  for  days  on  the  money  you  had 
Mr.  Seldon  give  him,  and  he  wore  pink  feathers  from 
some  millinery  store  the  last  time  I  saw  him.  But  Mr. 
Dan  is  always  patient  with  him  whether  he  is  drunk  or 
sober. 

"I  guess  that's  all  the  news.  Lavina  sends  her 
respects.  And  I  must  tell  you  that  on  Christmas  they 
got  some  whisky,  and  all  the  boys  drank  your  health — 
and  drank  it  so  often  Mr.  Dan  had  to  give  them  a  talking 
to.  They  think  a  heap  of  you.  Yours  with  affection, 

"LORENA  JANE  HUZZARD. 

"P.  S. — William  McCoy  is  the  name  of  the  stranger  I 
spoke  of.  The  boys  call  him  Bill." 


326  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 
OVER-TON'S  WIFE. 

A  few  hours  later,  'Tana  sat  in  a  box  at  the  theater; 
for  the  party  she  had  suggested  had  been  arranged,  and 
pretty  Miss  Margaret  was  radiant  over  the  evening 
planned  for  her,  and  'Tana  began  to  enjoy  her  role  of 
matchmaker.  She  had  even  managed  to  tell  Margaret, 
in  a  casual  manner,  that  Miss  Seldon's  idea  of  a  decided 
engagement  between  herself  and  Max  had  never  a  very 
solid  foundation,  and  now  had  none  at  all.  He  was  her 
good  friend — that  was  all,  and  she  was  to  leave  for  Italy 
in  a  month. 

And  Margaret  went  up  to  her  and  kissed  her,  looking 
at  her  with  puzzled,  admiring  eyes. 

"They  tried  at  home  to  make  me  think  very  differ- 
ently," she  said.  "But  you  are  a  queer  girl,  Miss  Mon- 
tana. You  have  told  me  this  on  purpose,  and — " 

"And  I  want  to  hear  over  in  Italy  that  you  are  going 
to  make  a  boy  I  like  very  happy  some  of  these  days. 
Remember,  Margaret,  you  are — or  will  be — a  million- 
airess, while  he  has  not  more  than  a  comfortable  in- 
come; and  boys — even  when  they  are  in  love — can  be 
proud.  Will  you  think  of  that?" 

Margaret  only  blushed  and  turned  away,  but  the 
answer  was  quite  satisfying  to  'Tana,  and  she  felt  freer 
because  her  determination  had  been  put  into  words,  and 
the  last  bond  connecting  her  with  the  old  life  was  to  be 


OVERTON'S  WIFE  327 

broken.  Ever  since  the  snows  had  gone,  some  cord  of 
her  heart-string  had  been  drawing  all  her  thoughts  to 
those  Northern  hills,  and  she  felt  the  only  safety  was  to 
put  the  ocean  between  them  and  her. 

The  home  Mr.  Seldon  had  offered  her  with  his  sister 
was  a  very  lovely  one,  but  to  it  there  came  each  week 
letters  about  the  mines  and  the  people  there.  Mr.  Seldon 
had  already  gone  out,  and  would  be  gone  all  summer.  As 
he  was  an  enthusiast  over  the  beauties  and  the  returns  of 
the  country,  his  letters  were  full  of  material  that  she 
heard  discussed  each  day.  Therefore,  the  only  safety 
for  herself  lay  in  flight ;  and  if  she  did  not  go  across  the 
ocean  to  the  East,  she  would  surely  grow  weaker  and 
more  homesick  until  she  would  have  to  turn  coward  en- 
tirely and  cross  the  mountains  to  her  West. 

Realizing  it  all,  she  sat  in  her  dainty  array  of  evening 
dress  and  watched  with  thoughts  far  away  the  mimic 
scene  of  love  triumphant  on  the  stage  before  her.  When, 
on  the  painted  canvas,  a  far-off  snow-crowned  mountain 
rose  to  their  view,  her  heart  seemed  to  creep  to  her  throat 
and  choke  her,  and  when  the  orchestra  breathed  softly 
of  the  winds,  music,  and  the  twittering  of  birds,  the  tears 
rose  to  her  eyes  and  a  great  longing  in  her  heart  for  all 
the  wild  beauty  of  her  Kootenai  land. 

Then,  just  as  the  curtain  went  down  on  the  second 
act,  some  one  entered  their  box. 

"You,  Harvey?"  said  Max,  with  genuine  pleasure. 
"Good  of  you  to  look  me  up.  Let  me  introduce  you  to 
my  aunt  and  Miss  Haydon.  You  and  Miss  Rivers  are 
old  acquaintances." 

"Yes;  and  that  fact  alone  has  brought  me  here  just 
now,"  he  managed  to  say  to  Lyster.  "To  confess  the 
truth,  I  have  been  to  see  Miss  Rivers  at  her  home  this 


328  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

evening,  having  got  her  address  from  Roden,  and  then 
had  the  assurance  to  follow  her  here.  You  may  be  sure 
I  would  not  have  spoiled  your  evening  for  any  trivial 
thing,  but  I  come  because  of  a  woman  who  is  dying." 

"A  woman  who  is  dying?"  repeated  Tana,  in  wonder, 
"And  why  do  you  come  to  me?" 

"She  wants  to  see  you.  I  think — to  tell  you  some- 
thing." 

"But  who  is  it?"  asked  Lyster.     "Some  beggar?" 

"She  is  a  beggar  now  at  least,"  agreed  Mr.  Harvey — 
"a  poor  woman  dying.  She  said  only  to  tell  Miss  Rivers, 
and  here  is  a  line  she  sent." 

He  gave  her  a  slip  of  paper,  and  on  it  was  written : 

"Come  and  take  some  word  to  Dan  Overton  for  me.  I 
am  dying.  OVERTONES  WIFE." 

She  arose,  and  Margaret  exclaimed  at  the  whiteness 
of  her  face. 

"Oh,  my  dear,"  sighed  Miss  Seldon,  "you  know  how 
I  warned  you  not  to  give  your  charities  individually 
among  the  beggars  of  a  city.  It  is  really  a  mistake. 
They  have  no  consideration,  and  will  send  for  you  at  all 
hours  if  you  will  go.  It  is  so  much  better  to  distribute 
charity  through  some  organization." 

But  'Tana  was  tying  her  opera  cloak,  and  moving 
toward  the  entrance. 

"I  am  going,"  she  said.  "Don't  worry.  Is  it  far,  Mr. 
Harvey  ?  If  not,  perhaps  I  can  be  back  to  go  home  with 
you  when  the  curtain  goes  down." 

"It  is  not  far,"  he  answered.    "Will  you  come,  Lyster  ?" 

"No!"  said  'Tana;  "you  stay  with  the  others,  Max. 
Don't  look  vexed.  Maybe  I  can  be  of  some  use,  and 
that  is  what  I  need." 

Many  heads  turned  to  look  at  the  girl  whose  laces 


OVERTON'S  WIFE  329 

were  so  elegant,  and  whose  beautiful  face  wore  such  a 
startled,  questioning  expression.  But  she  hurried  out  of 
their  sight,  and  gave  a  little  nervous  shiver  as  she 
wrapped  her  white  velvet  cloak  close  about  her  and  sank 
into  a  corner  of  the  carriage. 

"Are  you  cold?"  Harvey  asked,  but  she  shook  her 
head. 

"No.    But  tell  me  all." 

"There  is  not  much.  I  was  with  a  doctor — a  friend  of 
mine — who  was  called  in  to  see  her.  She  recognized 
me.  It  is  the  little  variety  actress  who  came  over  the 
Great  Northern,  on  our  train." 

"Oh !    But  how  could  she  know  me  ?" 

"She  did  not  know  your  name ;  she  only  described  you, 
remembering  that  I  had  talked  with  you  and  your  friends. 
When  I  told  her  you  were  in  the  city,  she  begged  so  for 
you  to  come  that  I  could  not  refuse  to  try." 

"You  did  right,"  she  answered.  "But  it  is  very 
strange — very  strange." 

Then  the  carriage  stopped  before  a  dingy  house  in 
a  row  that  had  once  belonged  to  a  very  fashionable 
quarter,  but  that  was  long  ago.  Boarding  houses  they 
were  now,  and  their  class  was  about  number  three. 

"It  is  a  horrible  place  to  bring  you  to,  Miss  Rivers," 
confessed  her  guide;  "and  I  am  really  glad  Miss  Seldon 
did  not  accompany  you,  for  she  never  would  have  for- 
given either  of  us.  But  I  knew  you  would  not  be  afraid." 

"No,  I  am  not  afraid.     But,  oh,  why  don't  they  hurry  ?" 

He  had  to  ring  the  bell  the  second  time  ere  any  one 
came  to  the  door.  Then,  as  the  harsh  jangle  died  away, 
steps  were  heard  descending  the  stairs,  and  a  man  with- 
out a  coat  and  with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth,  shot  back  the 
bolt  with  much  grumbling. 


330  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"I'll  cut  the  blasted  wire  if  some  one  in  the  shebang" 
don't  tend  to  this  door  better,"  he  growled  to  a  lady 
with  a  mug  of  beer,  who  just  then  emerged  from  the 
lower  regions.  "Me  a-trying  to  get  the  lines  of  that 
new  afterpiece  in  my  head — chock-full  of  business,  too! 
— and  that  bell  clanging  forever  right  under  my  room. 
I'll  move!" 

"I  wish  you  would,"  remarked  Harvey,  when  the  door 
opened  at  last.  "Move  a  little  faster  when  you  do  con- 
descend to  open  the  door.  Come,  Miss  Rivers — up 
this  way." 

And  the  lady  of  the  beer  mug  and  the  gentleman  of 
the  pipe  stared  at  each  other,  and  at  the  white  vision  of 
girlhood  going  up  the  dark,  bad-smelling  stairway. 

"Well,  that's  a  new  sort  in  this  castle,"  remarked  the 
man.  "Do  you  guess  the  riddle  of  it?" 

The  woman  did  not  answer,  but  listened  to  the  foot- 
steps as  they  went  along  the  hall.  Then  a  door  opened 
and  shut. 

"They've  gone  to  Goldie's  room,"  she  said.  "That's 
queer.  Goldie  ain't  the  sort  to  have  very  high-toned 
friends,  so  it  can't  be  a  long-lost  sister,"  and  she  smiled 
contemptuously. 

"She's  a  beauty,  anyway,  and  I'm  going  to  see  her 
when  she  makes  her  exit,  if  I  have  to  sit  up  all  night." 

"Oh!     And  what  about  the  afterpiece?" 

"To  the  devil  with  the  afterpiece !  It  hasn't  any  angels 
in  it." 

Inside  Goldie's  room,  a  big  Dutch  blonde  in  a  soiled 
blue  wrapper  sat  by  the  bed,  and  stared  in  open-mouthed 
surprise  at  the  new-comers. 

"Is  it  you  she's  been  askin'  for?"  she  asked,  bluntly. 

But  Tana  did  not  reply,  and  Harvey  got  the  blonde 


OVERTON'S  WIFE  331 

to  the  door,  and  after  a  few  whispered  words,  induced 
her  to  go  out  altogether,  and  closed  the  door  behind  her. 

"I  thought  you'd  come,"  whispered  the  little  woman 
on  the  bed.  "I  thought  the  note  would  bring  you.  I 
saw  you  talk  to  him,  and  I  dropped  to  the  game.  You're 
square,  too,  ain't  you?  That's  the  kind  I  want  now. 
That  swell  who  went  for  you  is  the  right  sort,  too.  I 
minded  his  face  and  yours.  But  tell  him  to  go  out  for 
a  minute.  It  won't  take  long — to  tell  you." 

Harvey  went,  at  a  motion  from  'Tana.  She  had  not 
uttered  a  word  yet.  All  she  could  do  was  to  stare  in 
wonder  at  the  wreck  of  a  woman  before  her — a  painted 
wreck;  for,  even  on  her  deathbed,  the  ghastly  face  was 
tinted  with  rouge. 

"I  can't  get  well — doctor  says,"  she  continued.  "There 
was  a  baby;  it  died  yesterday — three  hours  old;  and  I 
can't  get  well.  But  there  is  another  one  I  want  to  tell 
you  of.  You  tell  him.  It  is  two  years  old.  Here  is 
the  address.  Maybe  he  will  take  care  of  it  for  me.  He 
was  good-hearted — that's  why  he  married  me;  thought 
I  was  only  a  little  girl  without  a  home.  Any  woman 
could  fool  him,  for  he  thought  all  women  were  good. 
He  thought  I  was  only  a  little  girl;  and  I  had  been 
married  three  years  before." 

She  smiled  at  the  idea  of  that  past  deception,  while 
'Tana's  face  grew  hard  and  white. 

"How  you  look !"  said  the  dying  woman.  "Well,  it's 
over  now.  He  never  cared  for  me  much,  though — not 
so  much  as  others  did.  He  was  never  my  real  husband, 
you  know,  for  I  never  had  a  divorce.  He  thought  he 
was,  though;  and  even  after  he  left  me,  he  sent  me 
money  regular  for  me  to  live  quiet  in  'Frisco,  but  it 
didn't  suit  me.  Then  he  got  turned  dead  against  me 


332  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

when  I  tried  to  make  him  think  the  child  was  his.  He 
wouldn't  do  anything  for  me  after  that;  I  had  cheated 
him  once  too  often." 

"And  was  it  ?"  It  was  the  first  time  'Tana  had  spoken, 
and  the  woman  smiled. 

"You  care,  too,  do  you?  Well,  yes,  it  was.  You  tell 
him  so;  tell  him  I  said  so,  and  I  was  dying.  He'll  take 
care  of  her,  I  think.  She's  pretty,  but  not  like  me.  He 
never  saw  her.  She's  with  a  woman  in  Chicago,  where 
I  boarded.  I  haven't  paid  her  board  now  for  months,  but 
it's  all  right;  the  woman's  a  good  soul.  Dan  Overton 
will  pay  when  you  tell  him." 

"You  write  an  order  for  that  child,  and  tell  the  woman 
to  give  it  to  me,"  said  'Tana,  decidedly,  and  looked  around 
for  something  to  write  with.  A  sheet  of  paper  was 
found,  and  she  went  to  Harvey  for  a  pencil. 

'  'Most  ready  to  go  ?"  he  asked,  looking  at  her 
anxiouslj 

She  nodded  her  head,  and  shut  the  door. 

"But  I  can't  write  now ;  my  hands  are  too  weak,"  com- 
plained the  woman.  "I  can't." 

"You've  got  to!"  answered  the  girl;  and,  taking  her 
in  her  strong  young  hands,  she  raised  her  up  higher  on 
the  pillow.  "There  is  the  paper  and  pencil — now  write." 

"It  will  kill  me  to  lay  like  this." 

"No  matter  if  it  does;  you  write." 

"You're  not  a  woman  at  all;  you're  like  iron — white 
iron,"  whined  the  other.  "Any  woman  with  a  heart — " 
and  the  weak  tears  came  in  her  eyes. 

"No,  I  have  no  heart  to  be  touched  by  you,"  answered 
the  girl.  "You  had  a  chance  to  live  a  decent  life,  and 
you  wouldn't  take  it.  You  had  an  honest  man  to  trust 


OVERTON'S  WIFE  333 

you  and  take  care  of  you,  and  you  paid  him  with  deceit. 
Don't  expect  pity  from  me ;  but  write  that  order." 

She  tried  to  write  but  could  not,  and  the  girl  took  the 
pencil. 

"I  will  write  it,  and  you  can  sign  it,"  she  said;  "that 
will  do  as  well." 

Thus  it  was  accomplished,  and  the  woman  was  again 
laid  lower  in  the  bed. 

"You  are  terrible  hard  on — on  folks  that  ain't  just 
square,"  she  said.  "You  needn't  be  so  proud;  you  ain't 
dead  yet  yourself.  You  .don't  know  what  may  happen 
you." 

"I  know,"  said  the  girl,  coldly,  "that  if  I  ever  brought 
children  into  the  world,  to  be  thrown  on  strangers'  hands 
and  brought  up  in  the  streets  to  live  your  sort  of  life,  I 
would  expect  a  very  practical  sort  of  hell  prepared  for 
me.  Have  you  anything  more  to  tell  me  ?  I'm  going." 

"Oh— h !  I  wish  you  hadn't  said  that  about  hell.  I'm 
dreadful  afraid  of  hell,"  moaned  the  woman. 

"Yes,"  said  the  girl;  "you  ought  to  be." 

"How  hard  you  are !  And  the  doctor  said  I  would  die 
to-night." 

Then  she  lay  still  quite  a  while,  and  when  she  spoke 
again,  her  voice  seemed  weaker. 

"You  have  that  order  for  Gracie,  and  you  are  so  hard- 
hearted. I  don't  know  what  you  will  do — and  I  don't 
want  her  to  grow  up  like  me." 

"That  is  the  first  womanly  thing  I  have  heard  you  say," 
replied  the  girl. 

She  went  over  to  the  bed  and  took  the  woman's  hands 
in  hers,  looking  at  her  earnestly. 

"Your  child  shall  have  a  beautiful  and  a  good  home," 
she  said,  reassuringly.  "I  am  going  for  her  myself  to- 

22 


334  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

morrow,  and  she  will  never  lack  care  again.  Have  you 
any  other  word  to  give  me?" 

The  woman  shook  her  head,  and  then  as  'Tana  turned 
away,  she  said: 

"Not  unless  you  would  kiss  me.  You  are  not  like 
other  women;  but — will  you  kiss  me?" 

And,  with  the  pressure  of  the  dying  kiss  on  her  lips, 
'Tana  went  out  the  door. 

"Please  give  her  every  care  money  can  secure  for  her," 
she  said  to  the  woman  at  the  door ;  while  the  man,  minus 
the  pipe,  was  there  to  open  it. 

"Mr.  Harvey,  can  I  trouble  you  to  look  after  it  for 
me?  You  know  the  doctor  and  can  learn  all  that  is 
needed.  Have  the  bills  sent  to  me ;  and  let  me  know  when 
it  is  all — over." 

They  reached  the  theater  just  as  the  curtain  went 
down  on  the  last  act,  and  she  remained  in  the  carriage 
until  her  own  party  came  out. 

"I  can  hardly  thank  you  enough  for  coming  after  me 
to-night,"  she  said,  as  she  shook  hands  very  cordially 
with  Harvey.  "You  can  never  be  a  mere  acquaintance 
to  me  again.  You  are  my  friend." 

"Have  I  ignorantly  done  some  good?"  he  asked,  and 
she  smiled  at  him. 

"Yes — more  than  you  know — more  than  I  can  tell 
you." 

"Then  may  I  hope  not  to  be  forgotten  when  you  are 
in  Italy?" 

"Oh !"  and  the  color  flushed  over  all  the  pallor  caught 
from  that  deathbed.  "But  I— I  don't  think  I  will  go 
to  Italy  after  all,  Mr.  Harvey.  I  have  changed  my  mind 
about  that,  and  think  I  will  go  back  to  the  Kootenai 
hills  instead." 


LIFE  AT  TWIN  SPRINGS  335 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

LIFE   AT   TWIN   SPRINGS. 

Over  all  the  land  of  the  Kootenai  the  sun  of  early  June 
was  shining.  Trees  of  wild  fruits  were  white  with  blos- 
soms, as  if  from  far  above  on  the  mountains  the  snows 
had  blown  down  and  settled  here  and  there  on  the  new 
twigs  of  green. 

And  high  up  above  the  camp  of  the  Twin  Springs, 
Overton  and  Harris  sat  looking  over  the  wide  stretches 
of  forest,  and  the  younger  man  looked  troubled. 

"I  think  your  fear  is  all  an  empty  affair,"  he  said,  in 
an  argumentative  tone.  "You  eat  well  and  sleep  well. 
What  gives  you  the  idea  you  are  to  be  called  in  soon." 

"Several  things,"  said  the  other,  slowly,  and  his  speech 
was  yet  indistinct;  "but  most  of  all  the  feel  of  my  feet 
and  legs.  A  week  ago  my  feet  turned  cold;  this  week 
the  coldness  is  up  to  my  knees,  and  it  won't  go  away.  I 
know  what  it  means.  When  it  gets  as  high  as  my  heart 
I'll  be  done  for.  That  won't  take  long,  Dan;  and  I 
want  to  see  her  first." 

"She  can't  help  you." 

"Yes,  she  can,  too.  You  don't  know.  Dan,  send  for 
her." 

"Things  are  all  different  with  her  now,"  protested  the 
other.  "She's  with  friends  who  are  not  of  the  diggings 
or  the  ranges,  Joe.  She  is  going  to  marry  Max  Lyster ; 
and,  altogether,  is  not  the  same  little  girl  who  made  our 


336  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

coffee  for  us  down  there  in  the  flat.  You  must  not  ex- 
pect that  she  will  change  all  her  new,  happy  life  to  run 
back  here  just  because  you  want  to  talk  to  her." 

"She'll  come  if  you  telegraph  I  want  her,"  insisted 
Harris.  "I  know  her  better  than  you  do,  Dan.  The 
fine  life  will  never  spoil  her.  She  would  be  happier  here 
to-day  in  a  canoe  than  she  would  be  on  a  throne.  I  know 
her  best." 

"She  wasn't  very  happy  before  she  left  here." 

"No,"  he  agreed ;  "but  there  were  reasons,  Dan.  Why 
are  you  so  set  against  her  coming  back?" 

"Set  against  it?    Oh,  no." 

"Yes,  you  are.  Airs.  Huzzard  and  all  the  camp  would 
be  only  too  glad  to  see  her ;  but  you — you  say  no.  What's 
your  reason?" 

"Joe,  not  many  months  ago  you  tried  to  make  me  sus- 
picious of  her,"  said  Overton,  not  moving  his  eyes  from 
a  distant  blue  peak  of  the  hills.  "You  remember  the  day 
you  fell  in  a  heap?  Well,  I've  never  asked  you  your 
reasons  for  that ;  though  I've  thought  of  it  considerably. 
You  changed  your  mind  about  her  afterward,  and  trusted 
her  with  the  plan  of  this  gold  field  down  here.  Now,  you 
had  reasons  for  that,  too;  but  I  never ;have  asked  you 
what  they  are.  Do  the  same  for  me,  will  you?" 

The  other  man  did  not  answer  for  a  little  while,  but  he 
watched  Dan's  moody  face  with  a  great  deal  of  kindness 
in  his  own. 

"You  won't  tell  me?"  he  said  at  last.  "Well,  that's 
all  right.  But  one  of  the  reasons  I  want  her  back  is  to 
make  clear  to  you  all  the  unexplained  things  of  last 
summer.  There  were  things  you  should  have  been  told 
— that  would  have  made  you  two  better  friends,  would 
have  broken  down  the  wall  there  always  seemed  to  be 


LIFE  AT  TWIN  SPRINGS  33T 

between  you — or  nearly  always.  (She  wouldn't  tell  you, 
and  I  couldn't.)  It  left  her  always  under  a  cloud  to 
you,  and  she  felt  it.  Many  a  time,  Dan,  she  has  knelt 
beside  me  and  cried  over  her  troubles  to  me — and  they 
were  troubles,  too! — telling  them  all  to  me  just  because 
I  couldn't  speak  and  tell  them  again.  And  I  won't,  un- 
less she  lets  me.  But  I  don't  want  to  go  over  the  range 
and  know  that  you  two,  all  your  lives,  will  be  apart  and 
cold  to  each  other  on  account  of  suspicions  I  could  clear 
away." 

"Suspicions?     No,  I  have  no  suspicions  against  her/' 

"But  you  have  had  many  a  troubled  hour  because  of 
that  man  found  dead  in  her  room,  and  his  visit  to  her  the 
night  before,  and  that  money  she  asked  for  that  he  was 
after.  All  such  things  that  you  could  not  clear  her  of 
in  your  own  mind,  when  you  cleared  her  of  murder-r 
they  are  things  I  want  straightened  out  before  I  leave, 
Dan.  You  have  both  been  good  friends  to  me,  and  I 
don't  want  any  bar  between  you." 

"What  does  all  that  matter  now,  Joe?  She  is  out  of 
our  lives,  and  in  a  happier  one  some  one  else  is  making 
for  her.  I  am  not  likely  ever  to  see  her  again.  She 
won't  come  back  here." 

"I  know  her  best;  she  will  come  if  she  is  needed.  I 
need  her  for  once;  and  if  you  don't  send  for  her,  I  will, 
Dan.  Will  you  send?" 

But  Overton  got  up  and  walked  away  without  answer- 
ing. Harris  thought  he  would  turn  back  after  a  little 
while,  but  he  did  not.  He  watched  him  out  of  sight, 
and  he  was  still  going  higher  up  in  the  hills. 

"Trying  to  walk  away  from  his  desire  for  her,"  thought 
Joe,  sadly.  "Well,  he  never  will.  He  thinks  I  don't 
know.  Poor  Dan!" 


338  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

Then  he  whistled  to  a  man  down  below  him,  and  the 
man  came  and  helped  him  down  to  camp,  for  his  feet  had 
grown  helpless  again  in  that  strange  chill  of  which  he 
had  spoken. 

Mrs.  Huzzard  met  him  at  the  door  of  a  sitting  room, 
gorgeous  as  an  apartment  could  well  be  in  the  Northern 
wilderness.  All  the  luxuries  obtainable  were  there;  for, 
as  Harris  had  to  live  so  much  of  his  time  indoors,  Over- 
ton  seemed  determined  that  he  should  get  benefit  from  his 
new  fortune  in  some  way.  The  finest  of  furs  and  of 
weavings  furnished  the  room,  and  a  dainty  little  stand 
held  a  tea  service  of  shell-pink  china,  from  which  the 
steam  floated  cheerily. 

And  Lorena  Jane  herself  partook  of  the  general  air  of 
prosperity,  as  she  drew  forward  a  great  cushioned  chair 
for  the  invalid  and  brought  him  a  cup  of  fragrant  tea. 

"I  just  knew  you  was  tired  the  minute  I  saw  you  com- 
ing down  that  hill,"  she  said,  filling  a  cup  herself  and 
sitting  down  to  enjoy  it.  "I  knew  a  cup  of  tea  would 
<io  you  good,  for  you  ain't  quite  so  brisk  as  you  was  a 
few  weeks  ago." 

"No,"  he  agreed,  and  gulped  down  the  beverage  with 
a  dubious  expression  on  his  face.  He  very  much  pre- 
ferred whisky  as  a  tonic ;  but  as  Mrs.  Huzzard  was  bound 
to  use  that  new  tea  service  every  day  for  his  benefit,  he 
submitted  without  a  protest  and  enjoyed  most  the  num- 
ber of  cups  she  disposed  of. 

"I  suppose,  now,  you  got  sight  from  up  there  on  the 
hill  of  the  two  young  folks  going  boat  riding?"  she  re- 
marked, with  attempted  indifference;  and  he  looked  at 
her  questioningly. 

"Oh,  I  mean  Lavina  and  the  captain!     Yes,  he  did 


LIFE  AT  TWIN  SPRINGS  339 

get  up  ambition  enough  to  paddle  a  boat  and  ask  her  to 
ride  in  it;  and  away  they  went,  giddy  as  you  please!" 

"I  thought  you  had  a  high  regard  for  the  captain?" 
remarked  Harris. 

"Who?  Me?  Well,  as  Mr.  Overton's  relation,  of 
course  I  show  him  respect,"  and  her  tone  was  almost  as 
pompous  as  that  of  the  captain  used  to  be.  "But  I  must 
say,  sir,  that  to  admire  a  man — for  me  to  admire  a  man 
— he  must  have  a  certain  lot  of  push  and  ambition. 
He  must  be  a  real  American,  who  don't  depend  on  the 
record  of  his  dead  relations  to  tell  you  how  great  he  is — 
a  man  who  will  dig  either  gold  or  potatoes  if  he  needs 
them,  and  not  be  afraid  of  spoiling  his  hands." 

"Somebody  like  this  new  lucky  man,  McCoy,"  sug- 
gested Harris,  and  she  smiled  complacently  but  did  not 
answer. 

And  out  on  the  little  creek,  sure  enough,  Lavina  and 
the  captain  were  gliding  with  the  current,  and  the  cur- 
rent had  got  them  into  dangerous  waters. 

"And  you  won't  say  yes,  Lavina?"  he  asked,  and  she 
tapped  her  foot  impatiently  on  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 

"I  told  you  yes  twenty-five  years  ago,  Alf  Leek,"  she 
answered. 

He  sighed  helplessly.  His  old  aggressive  manner  was 
all  gone.  The  tactics  he  would  adopt  for  any  other 
woman  were  useless  with  this  one.  She  knew  him  like 
a  book.  She  had  him  completely  cowed  and  miserable. 
No  longer  did  he  regale  admiring  friends  with  tales  of 
the  late  war,  and  incidentally  allow  himself  to  be  thought 
a  hero.  One  look  from  Lavina  would  freeze  the  story 
of  the  hottest  battle  that  ever  was  fought. 

To  be  sure,  she  had  as  yet  refrained  from  using  words 
against  him;  but  how  long  would  she  refrain?  That 


340  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

question  he  had  asked  himself  until,  in  despair,  a  loop- 
hole from  her  quiet  vengeance  had  occurred  to  him,  and 
he  had  asked  her  to  marry  him. 

"You  never  could — would  marry  any  one  else,"  he 
said,  pleadingly. 

"Oh,  couldn't  I?" 

"And  I  couldn't,  either,  Lavina,"  he  continued,  looking 
at  her  sentimentally.  But  Lavina  knew  better. 

"You  would,  if  anybody  would  have  you,"  she  re- 
torted. "I  know  I  reached  here  just  in  time  to  keep 
poor  Lorena  Jane  from  being  made  a  victim  of.  You 
would  have  been  a  tyrant  over  her,  with  your  great  pre- 
tensions, if  I  hadn't  stopped  it.  You  always  were  tyran- 
nical, Alf  Leek ;  and  the  only  time  you're  humble  as  you 
ought  to  be  is  when  you  meet  some  one  who  can  tyran- 
nize over  you.  You  are  one  of  the  sort  that  needs  it." 

"That's  why  I  asked  you  to  marry  me,"  he  remarked, 
meekly. 

And  after  a  moment  she  said : 

"Well,  thinking  of  it  from  that  point  of  view,  I  guess 
I  will." 

Far  up  on  the  heights,  a  man  lying  there  alone  saw 
the  canoe  with  the  man  and  the  woman  in  it,  and  it 
brought  back  to  him  keen  rushes  of  memory  from  the 
summer  time  that  had  been.  It  was  only  a  year  ago 
that  'Tana  had  stepped  into  his  canoe,  and  gone  with  him 
to  the  new  life  of  the  settlement.  How  brave  she  had 
been !  how  daring !  He  liked  best  to  remember  her  as  she 
had  been  then,  with  all  the  storms  and  sunshine  of  her 
face.  He  liked  to  remember  that  she  had  said  she  would 
be  cook  for  him,  but  for  no  other  man.  Of  course  her 
words  were  a  child's  words,  soon  forgotten  by  her.  But 
all  her  words  and  looks  and  their  journeys  made  him 


LIFE  AT  TWIN  SPRINGS  341 

love  the  land  he  had  known  her  in.  They  were  all  the 
treasures  he  had  with  which  to  comfort  his  loneliness. 

And  when  in  the  twilight  he  descended  to  the  camp, 
Joe — or  his  own  longings — had  won. 

"I  will  send  the  telegram  for  you,  old  fellow,"  he  said, 
and  that  was  all. 


342  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
AGAIN  ON  THE  KOOTENAI. 

Another  canoe,  with  a  woman  in  it,  skimmed  over 
the  waters  in  the  twilight  that  evening — a  woman  with 
all  the  gladness  of  youth  in  her  bright  eyes,  and  an  eager- 
ness for  the  north  country  that  far  outstripped  the  speed 
of  the  boat. 

Each  dark  tree-trunk  as  it  loomed  up  from  the  shores, 
each  glint  of  the  after-glow  as  it  lighted  the  ripples, 
each  whisper  of  the  fresh,  soft  wind  of  the  mountains, 
was  to  her  'as  a  special  welcome.  All  of  them  touched 
her  with  the  sense  of  a  friendship  that  had  been  faith- 
ful. That  she  was  no  more  to  them  than  any  of  the 
strangers  who  came  and  went  on  the  current,  she  could 
not  believe;  for  they  all  meant  so  much,  so  very  much 
to  her. 

She  asked  for  a  paddle,  that  she  might  once  more 
'feel  against  her  strength  the  strong  rush  of  the  moun- 
tain river.  She  caressed  its  waves  and  reached  out 
Jier  hands  to  the  bending  boughs,  and  laughter  and 
sighs  touched  her  lips. 

"Never  again!"  she  whispered,  as  if  a  promise  was 
being  made ;  "never  again !  my  wilderness !" 

The  man  who  had  charge  of  the  canoe — a  stalwart, 
red-whiskered  man  of  perhaps  forty-five — looked  at  her 
a  good  deal  in  a  cautious  way.  She  was  so  unlike  any 
of  the  girls  he  had  ever  seen — so  gay,  so  free  of  speech 


AGAIN  ON  THE  KOOTENAI  343 

with  each  stranger  or  Indian  who  came  their  way;  so 
daintily  garbed  in  a  very  correct  creation  of  some  city 
tailor ;  and,  above  all,  so  tenderly  careful  of  a  child  who 
slept  among  the  rugs  at  her  feet,  and  looked  like  a  bit 
of  pink  blossom  against  the  dark  furs. 

"You  are  a  stranger  here,  aren't  you?"  she  asked  the 
man.  "I  saw  no  one  like  you  running  a  boat  here  last 
summer." 

"No,  no,"  he  said,  slowly;  "I  didn't  then.  My  camp 
is  east  of  Bonner's  Ferry,  quite  a  ways ;  but  I  get  around 
here  sometimes,  too.  I  don't  run  a  boat  only  for  myself ; 
but  when  they  told  me  a  lady  wanted  to  get  to  Twin 
Springs,  I  didn't  allow  no  scrub  Indians  to  take  her 
if  my  boat  was  good  enough." 

"It  is  a  lovely  boat,"  she  said,  admiringly;  "the  pret- 
tiest I  ever  saw  on  this  river,  and  it  is  very  good  of  you 
to  bring  me  yourself.  That  is  one  of  the  things  makes 
me  realize  I  am  in  the  West  once  more — to  be  helped 
simply  because  I  am  a  girl  alone.  And  you  didn't  even 
know  my  name  when  you  offered  to  bring  me." 

"No,  but  I  did  before  I  left  shore,"  he  answered ;  "and 
then  I  counted  myself  kind  of  lucky.  I — I've  heard  so 
much  about  you,  miss,  from  folks  up  at  Twin  Springs; 
from  one  lady  there  in  particular — Mrs.  Huzzard." 

"Oh!  so  you  know  her,  do  you?"  she  asked,  and 
wondered  at  the  self-conscious  look  with  which  he 
owned  up  that  he  did — a  little. 

"A  little?  Oh,  that  is  not  nearly  enough,"  she  said, 
good-naturedly.  "Lorena  Jane  is  worth  knowing  a  good 
deal  of." 

"That's  my  opinion,  too,"  he  agreed;  "but  a  fellow 
needs  some  help  sometimes,  if  he  ain't  over  handy  with 
the  gift  of  gab." 


344  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"Well,  now,  I  should  not  think  you  would  need  much 
help,"  she  answered.  "You  ought  to  be  the  sort  she 
would  make  friends  with  quick  enough." 

"Oh,  yes — friends,"  he  said,  and  sent  the  canoe  on 
with  swifter,  stronger  strokes.  The  other  boat,  paddled 
by  Indians  and  carrying  baggage,  was  left  far  behind. 

"You  make  this  run  often?"  she  asked,  with  a  little 
wonder  as  to  who  the  man  was.  His  dress  was  much 
above  the  average,  his  boat  was  a  beautiful  and  costly 
thing,  and  she  had  not  learned,  in  the  haste  of  her  de- 
parture, who  her  boatman  was. 

"Not  very  often.  Haven't  been  up  this  way  for  two 
weeks  now." 

"But  that  is  often,"  she  said.  "Are  you  located  in  this 
country  ?" 

"Well — yes,  I  have  been.  I  struck  a  silver  lode  across 
the  hills  in  yon  direction.  I've  sold  out  and  am  only 
prospecting  around  just  now,  not  settled  anywhere  yet. 
My  name  is  McCoy." 

"McCoy!"  and  like  a  flash  she  remembered  the  post- 
script of  Mrs.  Huzzard's  letter.  "Oh,  yes — I've  heard 
of  you." 

"You  have?  Well,  that's  funny.  I  didn't  know  my 
name  had  got  beyond  the  ranges." 

"Didn't  you?  Well,  it  got  across  the  country  to 
Manhattan  Island — that's  where  I  was  when  it  reached 
me,"  and  she  smiled  quizzically.  "You  know  Mrs.  Huz- 
zard  writes  me  letters  sometimes." 

"And  do  you  mean — did  she — " 

"Yes,  she  did — mentioned  your  name  very  kindly,  too," 
she  said,  as  he  hesitated  in  a  confused  way.  Then,  with 
all  the  gladness  of  home-coming  in  her  heart  and  her 
desire  that  no  heart  should  be  left  heavy,  she  added: 


AGAIN  ON  THE  KOOTENAI  345 

"And,  really,  as  I  told  you  before,  I  don't  think  you  need 
much  help." 

The  kindly,  smiling  eyes  of  the  man  thanked  her,  as 
he  drove  the  canoe  through  the  clear  waters.  Above 
them  the  stars  were  commencing  to  gleam  faintly,  and 
all  the  sweet  odors  of  the  dusk  floated  by  them,  and 
the  sweetest  seemed  to  come  to  her  from  the  north. 

"We  will  not  stop  over — let  us  go  on,"  she  said,  when 
he  spoke  of  Sinna  Ferry.  "I  can  paddle  while  you  rest 
at  times,  or  we  can  float  there  on  the  current  if  we  both 
grow  tired;  but  let  us  keep  going." 

But  ere  they  reached  the  little  settlement,  a  canoe 
swept  into  sight  ahead  of  them  and  when  it  came  near, 
Captain  Leek  very  nearly  fell  over  the  side  of  it  in  his 
anxiety  to  make  himself  known  to  Miss  Rivers. 

"Strangest  thing  in  the  world!"  he  declared.  "Here 
I  am,  sent  down  to  telegraph  you  and  wait  a  week  if 
need  be  until  an  answer  comes;  and  half-way  on  my 
journey  I  meet  you  just  as  if  the  message  had  reached 
you  in  some  way  before  it  was  even  put  on  paper.  Ex- 
traordinary thing — very !" 

"You  were  going  to  telegraph  me?  What  for?"  and 
the  lightness  of  her  heart  was  chased  away  by  fear.  "Is 
— is  any  one  hurt?" 

"Hurt?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  But  Harris  thinks  he  is 
worse  and  wanted  you,  until  Dan  concluded  to  ask  you 
to  come.  I  have  the  message  here  somewhere,"  and  he 
drew  out  a  pocket-book. 

"Dan  asked  me  to  come?  Let  me  see  it,  please,"  and 
she  unfolded  the  paper  and  read  the  words  he  had  writ- 
ten— the  only  time  she  had  ever  seen  his  writing  in  a 
message  to  her. 


346  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

A  lighted  match  threw  a  flickering  light  over  the 
page,  on  which  he  said: 

"Joe  is  worse.    He  wants  you.    Will  you  come  back? 

"DAN  OVERTON." 

She  folded  it  up  and  held  it  tight  in  her  hand  under 
the  cloak  she  wore.  He  had  sent  for  her!  Ah!  how 
long  the  night  would  be,  for  not  until  dawn  could  she 
answer  his  message. 

"We  will  go  on/'  she  said.  "Can't  you  spare  us  a 
boatman?  Mr.  McCoy  has  outstripped  our  Indian  ex- 
tras who  have  our  outfit,  and  he  needs  a  little  rest, 
though  he  won't  own  up." 

"Why,  of  course!  Our  errand  is  over,  too,  so  we'll 
turn  back  with  you.  I  just  passed  Akkomi  a  few  miles 
back.  He  is  coming  North  with  the  season,  as 
usual.  I  thought  the  old  fellow  would  freeze  out  with 
the  winter;  but  there  he  was  drifting  North  to  a  camp- 
ing-place he  wanted  to  reach  before  stopping.  I  suppose 
we'll  have  him  for  a  neighbor  all  summer  again." 

The  girl,  remembering  his  antipathy  to  all  of  the 
red  race,  laughed  and  raised  in  her  arms  the  child,  that 
had  awakened. 

"All  I  needed  to  perfect  my  return  to  the  Kootenai 
country  was  the  presence  of  Akkomi,"  she  confessed. 
"I  should  have  missed  him,  for  he  was  my  first  friend 
in  the  valley.  And  it  may  be,  Mr.  McCoy,  that  if  he 
is  inclined  to  be  friendly  to-night,  I  may  ask  him  to  take 
me  the  rest  of  the  way.  I  want  to  talk  to  him.  He  is 
an  old  friend." 

"Certainly,"  agreed  McCoy;  but  he  evidently  thought 
her  desire  was  a  very  peculiar  one. 

"But  you  will  have  a  friend  at  court  just  the  same— 


AGAIN  ON  THE  KOOTENAI  347 

whether  I  go  all  the  way  with  you  or  not,"  she  said  and 
smiled  across  at  him  knowingly. 

Captain  Leek  heard  the  words,  too,  and  must  have 
understood  them,  for  he  stared  stonily  at  the  big,  good- 
looking  miner.  Their  greeting  had  been  very  brief; 
evidently  they  were  not  congenial  spirits. 

"Is  that  a — a  child?"  asked  the  captain,  as  the  little 
creature  drooped  drowsily  with  its  face  against  Tana's 
neck;  "really  a  child?" 

"Really  a  child,"  returned  the  girl,  "and  the  sweetest, 
prettiest  little  thing  in  the  world  when  her  eyes  are 
open."  As  he  continued  to  stare  at  her  in  astonishment 
while  their  boats  kept  opposite  each  other,  she  added: 
"You  would  have  sooner  expected  to  see  me  with  a  pet 
bear,  or  wolf,  wouldn't  you?" 

"Yes;  I  think  I  would,"  he  confessed,  and  she  drew 
the  child  closer  and  kissed  it  and  laughed  happily. 

"That  is  because  you  only  know  one  side  of  me," 
she  said. 

The  stars  were  thick  overhead,  and  their  clear  light 
made  the  night  beautiful.  When  they  reached  the  boats 
of  Akkomi,  only  a  short  parley  was  held,  and  then  an 
Indian  canoe  darted  out  ahead  of  the  others.  Two  dark 
experts  bent  to  the  paddles  and  old  Akkomi  sat  near 
the  girl  and  the  child.  Looking  in  their  dusky  faces, 
'Tana  realized  more  fully  that  she  was  again  in  the 
land  of  the  Kootenais. 

It  was  just  as  she  would  have  chosen  to  come  back, 
and  close  against  her  heart  was  pressed  the  message  bj 
which  he  had  called  her. 

The  child  slept,  but  she  and  the  old  Indian  talked 
now  and  then  in  low  tones  all  through  the  night.  She 
felt  no  weariness.  The  air  she  breathed  was  as  a  tonic 


348  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

against  fatigue,  and  when  the  canoe  veered  to  the  left 
and  entered  the  creek  leading  to  camp,  she  knew  her 
journey  was  almost  over. 

The  dusk  was  yet  over  the  land,  a  faint  whiteness 
touched  the  eastern  edge  of  the  night  and  told  of  the 
dawn  to  come,  but  it  had  not  arrived. 

The  camp  was  wrapped  in  silence.  Only  the  watch- 
man of  the  ore-sheds  was  awake,  and  came  tramping 
down  to  the  shore  when  their  paddles  dipped  in  the 
water  and  told  him  a  boat  was  near.  It  was  the  man 
Saunders. 

"Miss  Rivers!"  he  exclaimed,  incredulously.  "Well, 
if  this  isn't  luck!  Harris  will  about  drop  dead  with  joy 
when  he  sees  you.  He  took  worse  just  after  dark  last 
night.  He  says  he  is  worse,  though  he  can  talk  yet.  I 
was  with  him  a  little  while,  and  how  he  did  worry  be- 
cause you  wouldn't  get  here  before  he  was  done  for'! 
Overton  has  been  with  him  all  night;  went  to  bed  only 
an  hour  ago.  I'll  call  the  folks  up  for  you." 

"No,"  said  the  girl,  hastily;  "call  no  one  yet.  I  will 
go  to  Joe  if  you  will  take  me.  If  he  is  so  bad,  that  will 
be  best.  Let  the  rest  sleep." 

"Can  I  carry  the— the  baby?"  he  asked,  doubtfully, 
and  took  the  child  in  his  arms  with  a  sort  of  fear  lest  it 
should  break.  He  was  not  the  sort  of  man  to  be  need- 
lessly curious,  so  he  showed  no  surprise  at  the  rather 
strange  adjunct  to  her  outfit,  but  carried  the  little  sleeper 
into  the  pretty  sitting  room,  where  he  deposited  it  on 
a  couch,  and  the  girl  arranged  it  comfortably,  that  it 
might  at  last  have  undisturbed  rest. 

A  man  in  an  adjoining  room  heard  their  voices  and 
*o  the  door. 


AGAIN  ON  THE  KOOTENAI  349 

"You  can  come  out  for  a  while,  Kelly,"  said  Saunders. 
"This  is  Miss  Rivers.  She  will  want  to  see  him." 

A  minute  later  the  man  in  charge  had  left  'Tana  alone 
beside  Harris. 

All  the  life  in  him  seemed  to  gather  in  his  eyes  as  he 
looked  at  her. 

"You  have  come !  I  told  him  you  would — I  told 
Dan,"  he  whispered,  excitedly.  "Come  close;  turn  up 
the  light;  I  want  to  see  you  plain.  Just  the  same  girl; 
but  happier — a  heap  happier,  ain't  you?" 

"A  heap  happier,"  she  agreed. 

"And  I  helped  you  about  it  some — about  the  mine, 
I  mean.  I  like  to  think  of  that,  to  think  I  made  some 
return  for  the  harm  I  done  you." 

"But  you  never  did  me  any  harm,  Joe." 

"Yes,  I  did — lots.  You  didn't  know — but  I  did. 
That's  why  I  wanted  you  to  come  so  bad.  I  wanted  to 
square  things — before  I  had  to  go." 

"But  you  are  all  right,  Joe.  You  are  not  going  to 
die.  You  are  much  better  than  when  I  saw  you  last." 

"Because  I  can  talk,  you  think  so,"  he  answered. 
"But  I  am  cold  to  my  waist — I  know  what  that  means; 
and  I  ain't  grumbling.  It's  all  right,  now  that  you  have 
come.  Queer  that  all  the  time  we've  known  each  other, 
this  is  the  first  time  I've  talked  to  you !  'Tana,  you  must 
let  me  tell  Dan  Overton  all — " 

"All!    All  what?" 

"Where  I  saw  you  first,  and — " 

"No — no,  I  can't  do  that,"  she  said,  shrinking  back. 
"Joe,  I've  tried  often  to  think  of  it — of  telling  him,  but 
I  never  could.  He  will  have  to  trust  or  distrust  me, 
but  I  can't  tell  him." 

"I  know  how  you  feel ;  but  you  wrong  yourself.    Any 

23 


350  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

one  would  give  you  credit  instead  of  blaming  you — • 
don't  you  ever  think  of  that?  And  then— then,  'Tana, 
I  tried  to  tell  him  down  at  the  Ferry,  because  I  thought 
you  were  in  some  game  against  him.  I  managed  to  tell 
him  you  were  Holly's  partner,  but  hadn't  got  any  farther 
when  the  paralysis  caught  me.  I  hadn't  time  to  tell  him 
that  Holly  was  your  father,  and  that  he  made  you  go 
where  he  said;  or  that  you  dressed  as  a  boy  and  was 
called  'Monte,'  because  that  disguise  was  the  only  safety 
possible  for  you  in  the  gambling  dens  where  he  took 
you.  Part  of  it  I  didn't  understand  clearly  at  that  time. 
I  didn't  know  you  really  thought  he  was  dead,  and  that 
you  tramped  alone  into  this  region  in  your  boy's  clothes, 
so  you  could  get  a  new  start  where  no  white  folks  knew 
you.  I  told  him  just  enough  to  wrong  you  in  his  eyes, 
and  then  could  not  tell  him  enough  to  right  you  again. 
Now  do  you  know  why  I  want  you  to  let  me  tell  him  all 
—while  I  can?" 

It  had  taken  him  a  long  time  to  say  the  words;  his 
articulation  had  grown  indistinct  at  times,  and  the  ex- 
citement was  wearing  on  him. 

Once  the  door  into  the  room  where  the  child  lay  swung 
open  noiselessly,  and  he  had  turned  his  eyes  in  that 
direction ;  but  the  girl's  head  was  bowed  on  the  arm  of 
his  chair,  and  she  did  not  notice  it. 

"And  then — there  are  other  things,"  he  continued. 
"He  don't  know  you  were  the  boy  Fannie  spoke  of  in 
that  letter;  or  that  she  gave  you  the  plot  of  this  land; 
or,  more — far  more  to  me! — that  you  took  care  of  her 
till  she  died.  All  that  must  give  him  many  a  worried 
thought,  'Tana,  that  you  never  counted  on,  for  he  liked 
you — and  yet  all  along  he  has  been  made  to  think  wrong 
of  you." 


AGAIN  ON  THE  KOOTENAI  351 

"I  know,"  she  assented.  "He  blamed  me  for — for  a 
man  being  in  my  cabin  that  night,  and  I — I  wanted  him 
to — think  well  of  me;  but  I  could  not  tell  him  the  truth, 
I  was  ashamed  of  it  all  my  life.  And  the  shame  has  got 
in  my  blood  till  I  can't  change  it.  I  want  him  to  know, 
but  I  can't  tell  him." 

"You  don't  need  to,"  said  a  voice  back  of  her,  and  she 
arose  to  see  Overton  standing  in  the  door.  "I  did  not 
mean  to  listen ;  but  I  stopped  to  look  at  the  child,  and 
I  heard.  I  hope  you  are  not  sorry,"  and  he  came  over  to 
her  with  outstretched  hand. 

She  could  not  speak  at  first.  She  had  dreamed  of  so- 
many  ways  in  which  she  would  meet  him — of  what  she 
would  say  to  him;  and  now  she  stood  before  him  with- 
out a  word. 

"Don't  be  sorry,  Tana,"  he  said,  and  tightened  his 
hand  over  her  own.  "I  honor  you  for  what  I  heard  just 
now.  You  were  wrong  not  to  tell  me;  I  might  have 
saved  you  some  troubles." 

"I  was  ashamed — ashamed!"  she  said,  and  turned 
away. 

"But  it  is  not  to  me  all  this  should  be  told,"  he  said, 
more  coldly.  "Max  is  the  one  to  know;  or,  maybe,  he 
does  know." 

"He  knows  a  little — not  much.  Seldon  and  Haydon 
recognized — Holly.  So  the  family  knew  that,  but  no 
more." 

It  was  so  hard  for  her  to  talk  to  him  there,  where 
Harris  looked  from  one  to  the  other  expectantly. 

And  then  the  child  slipped  from  the  couch  and  came 
toddling  into  the  light  and  to  the  girl. 

'  'Tana — bek-fas !"  she  lisped,  imperatively.  "Bek- 
fas." 


352  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"Yes,  you  shall  have  your  breakfast  very  soon/' 
promised  the  girl.  "But  come  and  shake  hands  with 
these  gentlemen." 

She  surveyed  them  each  with  baby  scrutiny,  and  re- 
fused. "Bek-fas"  was  all  the  world  contained  that  she 
would  give  attention  to  just  then. 

"You  with  a  baby,  Tana?"  said  Harris.  "Have  you 
adopted  one?" 

"Not  quite,"  and  she  wished — how  she  wished  it  was 
all  over!  "Her  mother,  who  is  dead,  gave  her  to  me. 
But  she  has  a  father.  I  have  come  up  here  to  see  what 
he  will  say." 

"Up  here!" 

"Yes.  But  I  must  go  and  find  some  one  to  get  her 
breakfast.  Then — Dan — I  would  like  to  see  you." 

He  bowed  and  started  to  follow  her,  but  Harris  called 
him  back. 

"This  spurt  of  strength  has  about  done  for  me,"  he 
said.  "The  cold  is  creeping  up  fast.  I  want  to  tell  you 
something  else.  Don't  tell  her  till  I  am  gone,  for  she 
wouldn't  touch  my  hand  if  she  knew  it.  I  killed  Lee 
Holly!" 

"You  didn't— you  couldn't!" 

"I  did.  I  was  able  to  walk  long  before  you  knew  it, 
but  I  lay  low.  I  knew  if  he  was  living,  he  would  come 
where  she  was,  sooner  or  later,  and  I  knew  the  gold 
would  fetch  him,  so  I  waited.  I  could  hardly  keep  from 
killing  him  as  he  left  her  cabin  that  first  night,  but  she 
had  told  him  to  come  back,  and  I  knew  that  would  be 
my  time.  She  thought  once  it  might  be  me,  but  changed 
her  mind.  Don't  tell  her  till  I  am  gone,  Dan.  And— 
listen!  You  are  everything  to  her,  and  you  don't  know 
it.  I  knew  it  before  she  left,  but —  Oh,  well,  it's  all 


AGAIN  ON  THE  KOOTENAI  353 

square  now,  I  guess.  She  won't  blame  me — after  I'm 
dead.  She  knows  he  deserved  it.  She  knew  I  meant 
to  kill  him,  if  ever  I  was  able." 

"But  why?" 

"Don't  you  know?  He  was  the  man — my  partner — 
who  took  Fannie  away.  Don't  you — understand?" 

"Yes,"  and  Overton,  after  a  moment,  shook  hands 
with  him. 

"I  didn't  want  'Tana  to  go  back  on  me — while  I  lived," 
he  whispered.  It  was  his  one  reason  for  keeping  silence 
— the  dread  that  she  could  never  talk  to  him  freely,  nor 
ever  clasp  his  hand  again;  and  Overton  promised  his 
wish  should  be  regarded. 

When  he  went  to  find  'Tana,  Mrs.  Huzzard  had  pos- 
session of  her,  and  the  two  women  were  seeing  that  the 
baby  got  her  "bek-fas,"  and  doing  some  talking  at  the 
same  time. 

"And  he's  got  his  new  boat,  has  he?"  she  was  saying. 
"Well,  now!  And  it's  to  be  a  new  house  next,  and  a 
fine  one,  he  says,  if  he  can  only  get  the  right  woman  to 
live  in  it,"  and  she  smoothed  her  hair  complacently. 
"He  thinks  a  heap  of  fine  manners  in  a  woman,  too; 
and  right  enough,  for  he'll  have  an  elegant  home  to  put 
one  in  and  she  never  to  wet  her  hands  in  dish-water! 
But  he  is  so  backward  like;  but  maybe  this  time — " 

"Oh,  you  must  cure  him  of  that,"  laughed  the  girl. 
"He  is  a  splendid  fellow,  and  I  won't  forgive  you  if  you 
don't  marry  him  before  the  summer  is  over." 

At  that  instant  Overton  opened  the  door. 

"If  you  are  ready  now  to  see  me — "  he  began,  and 
she  nodded  her  head  and  went  toward  him,  her  face  a 
little  pale  and  visibly  embarrassed. 

Then  she  turned  and  went  back. 


354  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

"Come,  Toddles,"  she  said;  "you  come  with  'Tana." 

A  faint  flush  was  tingeing  the  east,  and  over  the  water- 
courses a  silvery  mist  was  spread.  She  looked  out  from 
the  window  and  then  up  the  mountain. 

"Let  us  go  out — up  on  the  bluff,"  she  suggested.  "I 
have  been  shut  up  in  houses  so  long !  I  want  to  feel  that 
the  trees  are  close  to  me  again." 

He  assented  in  silence  and  the  child,  having  appeased 
its  hunger,  was  disposed  to  be  more  gracious,  and  the 
little  hands  were  reached  to  him  while  she  said: 

"Up." 

He  lifted  her  to  his  shoulder,  where  she  laughed  down 
in  high  glee  at  the  girl  who  walked  beside  in  silence. 
It  was  so  much  easier  to  plan,  while  far  away  from  him, 
what  she  would  say,  than  to  say  it. 

But  he  himself  broke  the  silence. 

"You  call  her  Toddles,"  he  remarked.  "It  is  not  a 
pretty  name  for  so  pretty  a  child.  Has  she  no  other 
one?" 

They  had  reached  the  bluff  above  the  camp  that  was 
almost  a  town  now.  She  sat  down  on  a  log  and  wished 
she  could  keep  from  trembling  so. 

"Yes — she  has  another  one — a  pretty  one,  I  think," 
she  said,  at  last.  "It  is  Gracie — Grace — " 

She  looked  up  at  him  appealingly. 

But  the  emotion  in  her  face  made  his  lips  tighten. 
He  had  heard  so  many  revelations  of  her  that  morning. 
What  was  this  last  to  be  ? 

"Well,"  he  said,  coldly,  "that  is  a  pretty  name,  so  far 
as  it  goes ;  but  what  is  the  rest  of  it  ?" 

"Overton,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice,  and  his  face  flushed 
scarlet. 


AGAIN  ON  THE  KOOTENAI  355 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  he  asked,  harshly,  and  the  little 
one,  disliking  his  tone,  reached  her  arms  to  'Tana. 
"Whose  child  is  this?" 

"Your  child." 

"It  is  not  true." 

"It  is  true,"  she  answered,  as  decidedly  as  himself. 
"Her  mother — the  woman  you  married — told  me  so  when 
she  was  dying." 

He  stared  at  her  incredulously. 

"I  wouldn't  believe  her  even  then,"  he  answered.  "But 
how  does  it  come  that  you — " 

"You  don't  need  to  claim  her,  if  you  don't  want  to," 
she  said,  ignoring  all  his  astonishment.  "Her  mother 
gave  her  to  me.  She  is  mine,  unless  you  claim  her.  I 
don't  care  who  her  father  was — or  her  mother,  either. 
She  is  a  helpless,  innocent  little  child,  thrown  on  the 
world — that  is  all  the  certificate  of  parentage  I  am 
asking  for.  She  shall  have  what  I  never  had — a  child- 
hood." 

He  walked  back  and  forth  several  times,  turning  some- 
times to  look  at  the  girl,  whom  the  child  was  patting 
on  the  cheek  while  she  put  up  her  little  red  mouth  every 
now  and  then  for  kisses. 

"Her  mother  is  dead?"  he  asked  at  last,  halting  and 
looking  down  at  her. 

She  thought  his  face  was  very  hard  and  stern,  and  did 
not  know  it  was  because  he,  too,  longed  to  take  her  in 
his  arms  and  ask  for  kisses. 

"Her  mother  is  dead." 

"Then— I  will  take  the  child,  if  you  will  let  me." 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said,  and  tried  to  smile  up  at 
him.  "You  don't  seem  very  eager." 


356  THAT  GIRL  MONTANA 

''And  you  came  back  here  for  that?"  he  said,  slowly, 
regarding  her.  '  'Tana,  what  of  Max  ?  What  of  your 
school?" 

"Well,  I  guess  I  have  money  enough  to  have  private 
teachers  out  here  for  the  things  I  don't  know — and  there 
are  several  of  them !  And  as  for  Max — he  didn't  say 
much.  I  saw  Mr.  Seldon  in  Chicago  and  he  scolded  me 
when  I  told  him  I  was  coming  back  to  the  woods  to 
stay—" 

'To  stay  ?"  and  he  took  a  step  nearer  to  her.    "  Tana !" 

"Don't  you  want  me  to?"  she  asked.  "I  thought 
maybe — after  what  you  said  to  me  in  the  cabin — that 
day—" 

"You'd  better  be  careful!"  he  said.  "Don't  make  me 
remember  that  unless — unless  you  are  willing  to  tell 
me  what  I  told  you  that  day — unless  you  are  willing  to 
say  that  you — care  for  me — that  you  will  be  my  wife. 
God  knows  I  never  hoped  to  say  this  to  you.  I  have 
fought  myself  into  the  idea  that  you  belong  to  Max. 
But  now  that  it  is  said — answer  me !" 

She  smiled  up  at  him  and  kissed  the  child  happily. 

"What  shall  I  say?"  she  asked.  "You  should  know 
without  words.  I  told  you  once  I  would  make  coffee 
for  no  man  but  you.  Do  you  remember  ?  Well,  I  have 
come  back  to  you  for  that.  And  see!  I  don't  wear 
Max's  ring  any  longer.  Don't  you  understand?" 

"That  you  have  come  back  to  me — Tana !" 

"Now  don't  eat  me !  I  may  not  always  be  a  blessing, 
so  don't  be  too  jubilant.  I  have  bad  blood  in  my  veins, 
but  you  have  had  fair  warning." 

He  only  laughed  and  drew  her  to  him,  and  she  could 
never  again  say  no  man  had  kissed  her. 

"Tana!"  said  the  child,  "  'ook." 


AGAIN  ON  THE  KOOTENAI  357 

She  looked  where  the  little  hand  pointed  and  saw 
all  the  clouds  of  the  east  flooded  with  gold,  and  higher 
up  they  lay  blushing  above  the  far  hills. 

A  new  day  was  creeping  over  the  mountains  to  banish 
shadows  from  the  Kootenai  land. 


THE   END. 


